


Eyes of Gold

by shingekicorn



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Multi, Psychic Abilities, Slow Build, Supernatural Elements, You know what just assume everyone shows up at least once I'm not tagging them all, for now, medium!Jean, psychic!Eren, spirit!Marco
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-15
Updated: 2015-04-28
Packaged: 2018-02-08 22:11:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 15
Words: 62,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1957959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shingekicorn/pseuds/shingekicorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which eyes see more than that of a normal human being, and humanity has more than one advantage over the giants who threaten their existence.</p><p>One boy who sees through the sands of time and gives premonitions, and one who sees past the veil of death to act as a messenger for the fallen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Gold

**Author's Note:**

> My wife is to blame to every last word of this. For years, in our break from making fanfics, we have done nothing but write original work and build our own fantasy universe. Codi, my lovely stupid wife, has been writing a psychic character in all that time and we have collected pages upon pages upon PAGES of notes on how we think they function. 
> 
> So of course, one weary night giggling to myself like an idiot at two in the morning, I uttered the infamous thought "Dude what if Eren was a psychic?" 
> 
> Two days and an aching wrist later, this happened. 
> 
> As always, notify me of grammar mistakes or curiosities, comments and kudos are greatly appreciated.

It was a well established fact that Eren Jaeger had eyes made of a strange mixture of blue and green. A color that could only be replicated by some of the lakes within the boundaries of the walls, and unknown to humanity, the waters of the ocean they had long forgotten about. They were a mixture as if the sky and the ground had come together as one and formed a color all their own. They were full of passion, of vigor and the thirst for revenge, full of unrelenting anger at times from the thought of being caged like cattle.

 And standing in a courtroom, with his hand wedged into Eren Jaeger's hair as he dragged the boy's bloody, misshapen face close to deliver a taunt, Levi saw those eyes change. Eren had hissed in pain, cringed at the sudden movement, and when Levi's face was as close as he was willing to go he had seen a small flash. One no one in the room would notice. It was so small that _only_ if you had been staring into the orbs that very second, you would see Eren's eyes change from the haunting blue and green mystery mixture, to a bright gold that shined brighter than any of the decorations the Wallists could don upon themselves. This change almost made Levi pause.

He knew Eren's eyes weren't gold. He had stared this kid down in his cell, eyes firmly locked on his, and he hadn't seen a trace of the color anywhere. 

 But he didn't pause, and delivered his taunt with his voice level and eyes locked on the head of the Military Police without so much as a second of hesitation.

 He had a job to do. As much as he didn't want to, he needed to show he could control this kid. He needed to hurt him. Dominate him. Show that he could kill this child, and that is what he was, just a child, if the time came when he fought back against humanity. Did he feel bad for doing it? A little. But he had done worse in his life, much worse, seen worse committed by worse people-it was the fact he simply didn't want unnecessary violence when the kid had already done humanity a giant favor by retaking a city in the first victory the military could ever truly record.

 Did this mean the child had gained his full trust? Hell no. Levi intended to watch the _shit_ out of Eren in case he ever got any funny ideas. But it did mean that Levi saw promise in him. And if Levi saw, Erwin had seen long before and already run at least twenty different scenarios on what to do with the potential Eren had.

 So Levi did his work. He beat Eren bloody, filing away the odd gold color to mention later, and let Erwin's master planning work its magic as they finally got the court to see things their way. For now, at least. Levi knew the Military Police would never rest until Eren was cut open on a slab so they could return to their pretending the world was okay as it was with everyone living in constant fear. He felt the tiniest twinge of pity when he glanced back to Eren slumped to the floor, but the kid had yet to voice a single complaint as the guards hoisted him up to escort him out. Normally someone his age would leave kicking and screaming.

 It was later, after his crude apology for the way he rearranged Eren's face, after Erwin shook his hand, after Hanji began gushing over his tooth regrowing - _ew, fucking gross-_ , that Levi brought up the subject that had been eating his mind all afternoon.

 “Your eyes flashed gold in the courtroom.”

 All eyes in the room shot to Levi, still perched on the small sofa next to Eren, expression bored even though he was insanely equal parts annoyed and curious.

 He had seen that color before. In passing glances in the dark underground, paired with smiles of malice masked by innocence. He had avoided it all then, wanted nothing to do with them, nothing ever to do with the selfish, self serving brats who waltzed around like everything valuable in the world belonged to them and them alone.

 “Gold? Was it the light?” Hanji questioned. “Oooh, what if it's a titan side effect? Eren, do you know if-”

 “You lost focus when it happened, too.” Levi cut her off, unwilling to listen to a two hour questionnaire on titan shifting abilities. “Stared off like something was a million miles away.” Eren fidgeted, an understanding and expectant look on his face. Good. Levi hoped this kid was as honest as his expressions. “It was the blood, wasn't it? There was so much of it on your face that you couldn't control the visions?”

 Eren began to nod, then quickly shook his head and began to open his mouth to form a response. His thumb began nervously rubbing the area of his hand where his teeth had sunk into not so long ago. Hanji could only smile and question “Visions?” as if she had found a new science project. Erwin stared down intently, expression soft but curious.

 “Eren, are you one of those fucking oracles? The ones everyone in Sina laugh over?”

 Eren paused, his response flying away before his thumb ceased its rubbing ministrations.

 “Um...we go by seer. Oracle is a bit archaic.”

 

* * *

 

 

Eren's first vision had come to him at eight years old. Which, for his kind, was perfectly normal. He had been helping his mother put away unused bandages for his father when his hand had lightly bumped hers and he was treated to the sight of his mother observing fruits at the local market.

 It had been strange. The sight was from _her_ point of view, her eyes, as her hand had run over an apple to check for bruises. He knew the next market visit wasn't for another three days. He knew she couldn't have moved from her spot in the kitchen. The vision as a whole felt like ages, details burning into Eren's mind from the way the light shined to the particles of dust floating in the air, but when it ended and Eren regained his senses he realized it had been maybe two seconds total. Carla had paused when she saw her sons eyes change, a smile blooming as she set the bandages down.

 “Did you see something Eren?”

 Eren had frozen, absorbing all the information of that moment, before grinning brightly. “I did! I got my first vision! I actually got it!”

 His mother had been so proud of him that day. Eren had heard of seer children being born completely human, no visions ever, and the thought had terrified him from the day his mother told him about it. The thought of not sharing a gift passed through his family for generations was awful. Especially when those like him were such a rarity inside the walls. Eren had lived his entire life in Shinganshina without meeting another seer, or even hearing of another family.

 His mother insisted they were out there, just hidden.

 In Maria seers like them lived a bit more openly. Patients came to the Jaeger household not just for Grisha, but sometimes with gold coins asking for Carla to give them a prediction. It ranged from what the weather was going to be to what dog to place bets on in the back alley races. On some occasions a client would come and demand service for free, but Eren always saw them leave quickly when Carla retaliated with the force seer mothers were infamous for. Only a truly foolish man would try to demand things twice after having an iron skillet used on their skull.

 Eren took so much pride and joy in the duties his mother performed. To him she was the best teacher he could ask for, even if she was pushy and overprotective. She would tell him stories of their kind, the old tales from a land where those who saw what they saw were revered as messengers of the gods. When temples were put up in their honor and gold was given in pounds upon pounds for a simple riddle that most clients would only confuse themselves with. She told him of their culture, the proper way to conduct oneself when you were given such gifts. And from the day his first vision came, she began to instruct him of the proper way to use his ability.

 Of course everything she told Eren, Eren told to Armin. Carla did not yell or make a fuss when Armin asked to be told the stories of the seer temples, she merely smiled and complied with the child's wish. Armin was able to see several of Eren's lessons up close, and he smiled in wonder every time Eren's eyes turned gold and his friend would relay information of what the future held. It was as precious to him as the book on the forbidden lands he kept hidden in his room.

 In that year Eren learned some of the most basic things someone like him could know. Cover his skin so crowds don't confuse him with accidental touches. Keep his inner circle of friends small. Don't agonize over bad visions coming true. You can't always change what you see. He was taught so much, but at the same time so little. Carla had smiled at his eagerness but told him he was only a child, he still had time left to play before the heavier lessons came and his mind was weighed down.

 When Eren was nine, he had put his miniscule training to good use. Carla had told him that touching his own exposed skin was good for visions many times, she herself was prone to rubbing her hair in her fingers when she required a vision. Eren had picked up the habit of rubbing his thumb along the edge of his hand. It was his constant rubbing, backtracking, checking his visions again and again and again that lead him to the cabin where a girl his age was being held.

 Eren checked several more times, each vision giving him another clue, before he had acted. The mantra his mother had repeated to him since birth echoed in his skull as he buried the knife in the first man. His rage pulsed in his veins as the words burned into his memory.

 “ _Get even and get over it.”_

 The little girl they had, Mikasa, would have no way to get even if he didn't do something. So he would get even for her. That way, _maybe_ she could get over it. She could recover. She probably wouldn't bounce back like he could if he were the one in her situation. Normal humans took trauma like this to heart and it never left them. She had been robbed of something precious and there was no forgiveness for that crime.

 The darker side of his kind was evident in that moment. The utter disregard for human life. Eren valued people, he really did, he didn't want people to get hurt and die. But as he straddled the second man, knife plunging into his chest over and over again, screaming his throat raw over how trash like him should just _stop existing,_ he truly felt nothing for them because they did not deserve any of his precious emotions. Humans who could do deeds like they had done and feel no remorse did not deserve life at all. Humans like them were never awarded his respect or consideration.

 The little girl on the floor deserved it so much more. Eren was sure she wasn't truly okay, but did his best to act normal as he untied her. But as his hand brushed hers while cutting through the rope, he was given a vision of _himself_ fighting for air, and didn't have enough time to react before the third man was upon him with intent to kill.

 That day, Eren accidentally gave a human insight to seer survival instinct. Really he hadn't thought it much different than that of a human. The urge to fight was universal. But whereas a human froze in terror and uncertainty, a seer would push back all emotion and _act._ The change had been so noticeable, the way her body suddenly hardened and she _charged_ , fury and utter insanity in her gaze as she drove the knife deep into the man cutting off Eren's airwaves.

 Until Eren's father and the Military Police arrived hours later, Eren could only hold her hands, thumbs stroking her soft skin as she gave the last of her tears over what she had done. Her face was dry and stony by the time lantern lights finally broke through the darkness to examine the gruesome scene they had left behind. His father wasn't too pleased over his actions, but his mother...his mother had taken one look at the two children, of the scarf Eren had given up for precious warmth, before welcoming Mikasa into the household with open arms.

 “She isn't another seer Eren, but you did bring home someone strong like one.”

 When Eren was nine, he gained another human into his circle. Before it had only been Armin, only the one single friend he cared about and looked out for, and now he had another. He gained a strong girl who had the resilience his mother always praised, who took to a household with a seer matriarch like she had always belonged there. Eren knew she was still hurting, her personality would never be the same, but he did what he could to aid her recovery. Even if he was limited to small things like placing an extra blanket over her bed.

 Once, when Mikasa had been in his home for only a few weeks, she shook him awake and asked him a question in her fragile voice.

 “Why did you come after me?”

 “Because Mom says family is the most important thing. The fact those men took that from you made me angry.” Eren replied honestly. “But it's okay now. I like having you in mine.”

 When Eren was nine, he gained a sister. He gained someone who listened just as intently when Carla told stories and gave advice, who held her hand out with no hesitation when Eren needed to practice with his gift. She was in no way a seer herself but she kept the energy of one.

 His circle seemed so cemented then. Just Mom, Dad, Armin, and Mikasa. He didn't need anyone else in the world as long as they were there. His mother had told him to keep it small and he had done just that. Everything was stable and okay.

 When Eren was ten, he lost all of it.

 It was the events five years ago that shaped everything leading up Eren's current situation. He had already been a curious child, yearning to see the outside world Armin spoke of so passionately, to take a path no one else wanted to and join the Scouting Legion. His mother had been against it, the self preservation so common in their kind burning her veins at the thought of her only son rushing to his death-Eren still felt so much guilt over arguing with her up to her final moments.

 It was five years ago, watching her blood spill, that the mantra repeated itself in his head.

 Five years ago Eren, furious and aching and mourning, swore as he left Shinganshina that he would, indeed, get even for the wrongs dealt to him that day. His drive was no longer simply to free the lands outside the walls so he could explore. It was no longer to rid himself of the limitations the walls placed upon him. He would eradicate every last titan in vengeance. In justice. He would kill them all as punishment for taking such priceless, valuable things from him. He would do to them what he had done to the men who hurt Mikasa tenfold, no, one hundred fold so he could make them all _suffer._

 He had taken every step he could until now to ensure his plan would work. He dedicated so much time and energy to his training, fighting tooth and nail for a chance to join the Legion, burning his desire for vengeance into his very soul. He had been prepared to approach the Commander himself and reveal his sight so he could be of use to the military.

 He hadn't imagined it would be this way.

 He hadn't imagined he could become one of those monsters, or that his first meeting with his childhood hero would be through bars as he was treated like the enemy. All thoughts of using his gift were halted as he reevaluated the situation and tried to see in what scenario could he make this an advantage. He spent those lonely few days in his cell rubbing his hand, searching behind closed eyelids, seeing if this new ability affected his visions.

 He hadn't imagined having to conceal his eyes as he was beaten in front of the court, a combination of blood and a hand in his hair turning his visions to overdrive, disorienting him so much he couldn't focus enough to hear most of the final verdict.

 He also hadn't imagined it would be Levi who guessed what he was.

 “An oracle?” Hanji beamed. The very thought excited her in a way that suggested Levi had actually told her he got a titan for her birthday. “I've always heard stories about them, I've never seen one in real life before!”

 “Seer.” Eren corrected. “Oracle is only used in past tense in stories, it's seer.”

 “And how long have you been holding back on this?” Hanji stood up, stuffing Eren's missing tooth into her pocket as she dug for a small notebook. “I need to take notes on this! I can't believe we actually got our hands on someone as valuable as you!”

 “How long _have_ you held this from us?” Levi traced his eyes along Eren's form, shifting back to stare at Erwin. “This would have been helpful before your trial.”

 “Not with the guards watching.” Eren replied. “The MP would have wanted me even more if they knew. Having one of us is as good as having a seasoned informant.” He shrunk on himself a bit, resuming rubbing his hand as he spoke. “I apologize for not telling any of you. The uh, the titan issue weighed more heavily on my mind.”

 “No, you're right.” Erwin spoke, lifting his hand to rub his chin thoughtfully. Levi took note that Erwin didn't seem the slight bit surprised at this news. “Keeping this confidential was very beneficial to us. Good work, Eren.”

 Eren fluffed up a bit at the praise, sitting a bit straighter and releasing the tension from his shoulders.

 “That's all well and good, but now what the hell do we do? Sooner or later it's going to get out that he's some fairy tale creature.” Levi sat forward a bit, resting his chin on his fist as he kept his gaze locked with Erwin's. “We'll have our hands full enough with the titan issue.”

 “It won't be a problem!” Eren dug his hands into his knees, sitting up straighter and straighter as the tension in the room wound up. “I was already going to use this to the Legion's advantage!” Hanji seemed elated as his exclamations, biting her lip in excitement. Levi removed his head from his fist to watch him. Erwin remained stone faced, but contemplative. “I've been planning to join the Scouting Legion since I was a kid, and I intended to assist in any way I can!” Eren took a deep breath.

 “So please, Commander, use me as a tool for humanity's success!”

 


	2. Dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's half the man he used to be. 
> 
> And in other news: Captain Levi is intensely creeped out by Eren's species, but what else is new?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have nothing better to do than to write, so here's the new chapter. 
> 
> I...honestly did not expect such a big response so soon. Back when I was regularly writing fanfic I had more confidence but it took me MONTHS to get any more than maybe 30 views on my work. If this keeps up then I'll post the chat logs this fic is based on on my blog for fans to see: http://shingeki-no-unicorns.tumblr.com/
> 
> Comments and questions are encouraged, don't be shy!

_Notes from the desk of Hanji Zoe: Psychics_

_Subject: Public opinion_

  _It seems the three walls have their own core set beliefs. Before the fall of Maria, inside this wall they were openly referred to as 'seers' and could operate their business from their own homes, from what Eren tells me. They were very territorial and finding more than one in the same village is impossible unless they're family. Locals treasure them as they bring prosperous wealth if treated well._

_In Rose, the reaction seems split in the middle. Half of Rose's population thinks of them as mythical creatures who don't actually exist. The other half thinks of them as gifts of the Earth. The split seems to be within cities and small villages since Sina is such an influence on Rose's behavior. It's harder to find them living openly here. People call them 'psychics' more than anything, and they can never seem to agree exactly what their powers are. It ranges from fortune telling to telekinesis._

_Sina is the most drastic of all. If you were to ask anyone in Sina about a psychic, they would turn their nose and tell you to stop wasting their time on creatures the lower class made up to scam hard working folks. They refer to them as 'oracles', the oldest known term. Despite this Eren tells me that Sina is home to more seers than any other wall. I wonder what on Earth could drive such territorial beings into the wall with the least amount of open space...?_

 

* * *

 

In the aftermath of the Battle of Trost, soldiers were deployed on cleanup duty with instructions to clear out any human remains found and identify who they could. It was a grisly job, one no one wanted, but it had to be done if the city had any hope of rebuilding itself.

Jean had been hard at work doing his part in the cleanup efforts. Trost was where he was born, where he grew up, where he played and learned and had family-he had an obligation to his home. But it had only taken him one day before he decided he could never come back. No amount of attachment could ever make him return willingly. The corpses of friends and companions piled too high. The missing limbs and bloodstains began to stink, filling his lungs with decay and a sense of hopelessness so thick it made every breath feel like inhaling tar.The smoke from all the burning, the ashes he knew were made of the flesh of the dead, would haunt his nightmares as black rain for the rest of his life. 

It was only by the grace of every instruction he received in training that he did not squeal like a frightened little girl when his best friend rose from the dead.

It had been maybe less than one minute since he gave Marco's name to the woman in charge of identification. Less than one minute to absorb the fact his best friend had perished. He stepped forward to begin the agonizing process of moving the body when Marco was suddenly _standing_ and blocking his way. Jean froze and checked out the corner of his eyes if anyone else was watching.

“Jean? Is that you?” Marco looked... _normal_. His freckles were all in line, his face was whole-not a drop of blood stained his uniform. The window of the shop behind him could be seen right through his torso. “I've been wandering town for two days, what happened? Did we win? Is it over?” Jean was so very thankful in that moment that he was wearing a mask, because his jaw couldn't stop quivering. Did Marco not know? Was he going to be one of the ignorant ones who went about their business like they were still alive? “No one else will answer me, I'm really scared. I don't think they can even see me.”

“Marco...” Jean's voice cracked, fingers twitching before curling to form a tight fist. “Marco, I'm so sorry...”

“What for?” His voice sounded so _innocent_ , oh _god-_

“Turn around.”

Marco did so. For a torturous minute, there was silence. In the background Jean could hear other cleaners, muffled cries of agony and the buzzing of flies-but in the small bubble he and Marco occupied, there was nothing.

“...is...is that my-”

 

“Jean!”

Jean's eyes shot open, a snore choking in his throat and returning to life as a cough as he processed what was going on. There was sunlight streaming in through the windows. He was surrounded by soft blankets. His face felt moist, and one glance down revealed he was indeed face down in a pit of his own drool. A concerned Armin was standing next to his bed. He attempted to ask why, but all that wormed its way past his lips was a confused “Urghle...”

“Sorry to wake you up like this.” Armin shot him a small smile while placing a loaf of bread and a cup of water on the bedside table. “You missed breakfast, and I was worried. You've been acting really...” He paused, thinking over his words carefully before redirecting his statement. “You haven't been the same since Trost. I-I mean, I can understand why, but...”

“Armin.” Jean wiped his mouth with one hand, sitting up to focus his tired eyes on the blond. “S'okay. Thanks for the food.”

“You need to get dressed soon. We need to take our gear in for inspection.” Armin sighed, shifting on his feet as he glanced out the window. The nervousness in his eyes left Jean feeling a bit uneasy. He had been in Armin's company many times for the past three years, and a thinking Armin was often a scary Armin. “The titans captured for testing were killed.”

“What?” Jean snapped to attention at those words.

“I don't know much, and apparently I'm not supposed to know anything at all just yet. But the Garrison soldiers who were tasked with guarding the subjects have been panicking all morning.” Armin clenched and unclenched his hands, deciding to fold his arms to cease his fidgeting. “They want all trainees to submit their gear for inspection by the end of the hour.”

“They think we did it?”

“Who else would?” Armin shrugged. “We just went through serious trauma by being tossed headfirst into battle. It only makes sense that someone would snap and kill the research titans out of revenge instead of stepping back to think about what we have to lose by not having new research data.”

“That...that actually makes a lot of sense.” Jean rubbed his eyes, pushing back the blankets to swing his feet over the edge of the bed. “I'll be down in a few minutes, okay? Thanks for the breakfast.”

“No problem.” Armin smiled softly. “I better go and get my gear. I'll see you later.” He turned, arms dropping back down to his sides as he left. Jean heard his soft footsteps echo down the hall until they vanished. Jean finally allowed a tired smile to breach his lips as he stretched to take his breakfast. He didn't realize just how hungry he-

“It's nice that he's looking after you.”

Jean nearly jumped off his bed, jolting so badly his water clattered to the floor and soaked the bottom of his pajama pants. “CHRIST-”

“Whoops.”

“Marco, I told you to stop doing that!” Jean whipped around angrily, hand crushing the bread Armin had brought him. Marco, torso sticking out from the wall, smiled in a sheepish apology as his transparent hand began rubbing the back of his neck. “Jeez, you'd think you'd remember you don't make noise when you move anymore...”

“Sorry, sorry. I'm still getting used to it.” Marco pulled the rest of his body through the wall, stepping into the room fully and coming to stand next to Jean's bed. He had taken to wandering the base at night while Jean slept. Jean had attempted to stay up and keep him company once, but Marco had forced him to bed and phased through the floor before Jean could argue.

Jean sighed, then picked his cup up from the floor. There was still a small bit of water left, maybe he could salvage his breakfast. “So is what Armin said true?”

“About the test titans?” Marco cocked his head. “Very. The Garrison has been running around conducting investigations since dawn. I've listened in to a few of them talking and so far they haven't had any luck finding the culprit.”

Jean chewed his crushed bread with a humorless chuckle. “I guess you not having to sleep actually comes in handy sometimes.” 

“What's really handy is you being able to actually talk to me.” Marco walked _through_ the bed, stopping in front of the window to gaze down at the street. Jean felt uneasy. Marco acted too...too _casual_ for someone who wasn't among the living anymore. “Are you going to tell anyone else about it? Your sight, I mean.”

“And be like Eren? Mister 'Look at me I'm a goddamn psychic?'” His full contempt couldn't be readily conveyed through the statement, so Jean took the extra measure to make a face at the very thought of Eren's name.

“He wasn't that bad, Jean.” Marco turned his head with a skeptic eyebrow raised. Jean ignored the look and began rummaging through his belongings for his uniform.

“He did bogus fortune telling for extra food at dinner, that's just attention seeking and stupid.” Jean fished his pants out of his bag with a grimace. "But then again he was always a stupid suicidal bastard." 

Marco's eyebrow fell, then turned his head back to the window with a contemplative expression. “...hey, Jean?”

“Yeah?”

“Last night at the pyre...did you mean what you said? About joining the Legion?”

Jean stilled, hand still clutching his shirt. “Yeah. Yeah, I still do.” Marco hummed in response. Jean resumed putting his clothes together. The silence between the two was stifling. Jean swallowed thickly before speaking.“I know we planned for the Military Police...and I'm sorry if you don't agree with my choice...”

“I can understand why you would change your mind.” Marco's hand reached to trace the side of his face, a frown marring his features. “You're very brave for choosing this path.”

“I'm scared out of my mind.”

“That's what bravery is, silly.” Marco turned, hand dropping as one corner of his lips twitched upward into an awkward half smile. “Acting despite your fears.”

“Yeah, yeah, stop tossing praise, you freckled messiah.” Jean stripped off his nightshirt, replacing it quickly before donning his jacket.

“I bet Eren must be happy right now.” Marco sat on the bed, ignoring the fact no dip in the mattress appeared as he shifted to a comfortable sitting position. “Being with the Legion already and all.”

“Suicidal idiot must be shitting himself with excitement.”

“Heh, I bet he hasn't stopped smiling.”

 

* * *

 

To say Eren had made a grave error was a massive understatement.

In fairness, he did not know Hanji that well and there was no way to judge exactly how eccentric she really was at the time. He also needed as much information as he could if he wished to accomplish his goal of killing all the titans in his thirst for revenge. But he had still fudged up _very_ badly by asking about her various titan experiments.

Really, he could have halted her anytime, but his mother had drilled into him from a very young age to respect his elders. Especially the ones who have in his words, 'seen some major shit'.

And so he lost a night's worth of sleep and had to down a cup of highly caffeinated tea in order to walk like a normal person when it came time to leave and examine the test subject titans. It helped somewhat, he was wide awake by the time he watched a screaming Hanji mourn her losses. He was torn between anger at the culprit and a shred of relief that he no longer had to assist in experiments when he wanted nothing more than to collapse into bed and become one with his sheets.

That want became for nothing when Erwin had touched his shoulder.

“ _What do you see? Who do you think is the real enemy?”_

What did he see? Absolutely nothing. No real sense could be made from the questions no matter how much he thought on it on the ride back to the castle. He rubbed at his hand over and over and over again, the occasional vision coming through, but nothing revealed itself. Nothing left him more antsy than not having any information. His mother had told him all seers were this way.

He hadn't believed her as a child since Armin was more of a scholar than he was, but he saw now she didn't mean it in the way he interpreted.

Eren sighed, lifting his eyes from the path to meet the steely grey of Levi's. Levi seemed to stare at him a lot. Eren blinked but didn't tear his eyes away. Levi was much stranger than he thought he would be. As a child Eren had envisioned him as a strong man who played by his own rules, who killed titans left and right while ignoring his superiors and still advanced because he was _just that good_. He envisioned a hero who blinded others with his skill. Someone _taller_. He did not expect a short crass man who had issues with dirt.

Though Eren couldn't complain. Levi's natural energy was just as strong as he assumed it would be. He knew not to underestimate the man. The fact he had such an interesting personality meant he wasn't going to be pinned down by such childish expectations, and Eren found that much more fascinating to observe than the version of Levi he had been dreaming about.

“Why are you staring at me?” Levi's dry voice broke through his thoughts like a sledgehammer, and Eren realized he had indeed been locked in a staring battle with his childhood idol for at least five minutes.

“You were staring at me first.” Eren's eyes still didn't leave Levi's. What exact color _were_ they? They seemed blue grey. Eren was somewhat mystified.

“It's my job to watch you.” Levi replied in deadpan. “You stare a lot. Do you realize that?” He pulled ahead a bit, eyes still locked onto Eren's, bringing his horse a bit closer so he didn't have to talk too loudly to be heard. "You stared at Petra's hair for half the ride yesterday." 

“My friends say I do. I just like to observe people.” He was even more fascinating up close, Eren discovered. He had such a sharp face. “My mom told me that seers do it out of instinct.”

Levi blinked, breaking their held gaze and turning back to the path. “I take it she was the psychic parent?” Eren made a humming noise of confirmation, nodding his head. “And she taught you what you know?”

“Until Maria fell, yes.” Eren sagged his shoulders. “I never got another teacher though. The parent is usually in charge of education. I only got two years worth, and a lot of the material was cut because I was young.” He hadn't found out until much later all the things he had missed. He supposed his mother had been trying to preserve his childhood innocence, but it only hindered him when he reached his teenage years and had major gaps in subjects most seers his age already knew. He made a mental note to send a 'thank you' note and a bunch of flowers to Armin for his assistance in that time period.

“Shitty Glasses will be pleased to hear this.” Levi muttered. “Since her precious titans are gone, that means her schedule is cleared up. More time to poke and prod you.”

“But isn't the induction ceremony soon? What about new recruits?”

“Pushed back another day or so due to investigations.” Levi rolled his shoulders, adjusting his grip on the reigns. “They'll be here by the end of the week though. We need to spend the next month going over the expedition formation. Are you that anxious to see your friends again?”

Eren raised his shoulders, making a noncommittal 'I don't know' noise. “I figured I would be too busy here with you and the special operations squad to have time with them.” He did have one issue however. “...but I do miss two of them a bit much. I lost the hair samples I keep track of them with.”

Levi was silent before slowly turning his head. His face was darkened to a point that was slightly frightening. Eren remembered that same expression masking his face when he ordered the seer to redo all his cleaning in the upper floor of the castle. Levi was disgusted.“You kept their _hair_?”

“A bit of parchment with their hair attached to it, yes. I kept it tucked up my sleeve for easy access, but uh...I lost the arm.” Eren felt a bit awkward bringing that up, but it was the truth. The sleeve he kept Mikasa and Armin's hair in had been bitten off, and his arm had never been recovered. It probably was recovered, actually. Recovered but thrown in with the rest of the corpses because it was mistaken for a stray limb to a dead man.

“That is unsanitary on so many levels.” Levi actually scooted away from him a bit, as if the hair was present and being shoved at him. “Can't you take something else?”

“It has to be a part of their body.” Eren shrugged. “Hair is common because it's easy. Other options are nails, flesh, or blood. Blood is actually the best you can have because it gives you a really accurate vision of what's happening at that very moment.”

Levi damn near shivered at the thought, but held it in. “You know what? I'm fine with hair now. Go nuts.”

“It's good you say that, Captain.” Eren chuckled nervously. “Because I'm probably going to make a notebook this month. I need to keep track of all the squad members if I'm going to stay in your company.”

“Good luck with that.” Levi still held back a shiver. What kind of fucked up species collected _hair_ and _carried it around_? Then again a funeral custom for the rich in Sina was to make a doll with a dead child's hair, so maybe Eren's species wasn't the only fucked up group inside the walls. “I doubt it'll be easy collecting everyone's hair for your little scrapbook of horrors.”

“It was easy with Armin and Mikasa. They let me cut it off.” Eren leaned back a bit to look at the sky. They would be back at the castle soon, judging from how far the sun had moved. Maybe even in time for lunch. “My mom had to yank mine out, I didn't want her near my head with scissors and tried to run away.” He remembered the sting from that day. He ended up hiding at Armin's house until dinner because he feared his mother would yank even more as punishment. “So, would it be okay if I had some of yours? I think you deserve the front page since you're my immediate superior.”

Levi flicked his eyes in Eren's direction. “Will giving you my hair actually benefit anything, or just help you with a disturbing hobby?”

“I could check on you any time of the day and potentially save you from disaster. Once I saved Armin from getting trampled by a horse.”

“Is it helpful in battle?”

“If I have enough time to check without it being a distraction, yes.”

Levi thought on the issue for a moment, going over the pros and cons of allowing a fifteen year old seer to have his hair. Eren was oblivious to this and was wondering where he could find a blank notebook. Maybe Hanji had one. He also needed something to bind the hair to the pages, maybe he could dip the ends in candle wax-

“Fine.” Eren's head swiveled towards the captain at the statement. “I'll touch up my haircut and give you what falls to the floor. Is that good enough?”

“As long as it's your hair, yeah.”

“Good.” Levi sped up then, heading for the front of the group. “When we get back and Hanji stops crying over her titans you'll be put through a question and answer session. You'll be free to do whatever after that until curfew as long as you stay where I can watch you.”

“Understood sir.”

Eren couldn't understand why he felt so happy Levi had agreed to be included in his book.

 


	3. Detach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In order for a seer to function, they have the ability to turn all emotions to the backburner. 
> 
> In order for a titan shifter to function, they must remember their attachments or otherwise turn blank.
> 
> Being both in one person gives these thoughts much more volume.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After talking things over with the waifu I think I know where I'm taking this story. Ah, the wonders of exploring character development. 
> 
> And ah, the wonders of hating my writing style. I really considered rewriting the whole thing before realizing I didn't need to and could simply TWEAK the narration a little to a point where I was comfortable. 
> 
> I mean, I already did rewrite this chapter once-ANYWHO. Comments are super welcome here! Questions, concerns? Curiosities? Feel free to talk I love it when people ask stuff

_Notes from the desk of Hanji Zoe: Psychics_

_Subject: Quirks_

_Within the first week of observing Eren, I've started to keep note of all his personal tics and behaviors. His status as a titan shifter may tamper with the data, but in depth questions with Eren are helping me sort out which behaviors are actually related to seers and their peculiar way of living._

  * _Shiny objects are very alluring, as are things that seem very nicely made from an upper class of living. So far Eren has not passed up a chance to rub his hands on my bedsheets, commenting on how soft they are. He was also very distracted by a silver bracelet Petra was wearing. Levi wasn't as amused as I was when Eren walked into a wall because he was staring at it._

  * _They refer to other people as 'humans' because they consider themselves separate. I would let this go without comment, but Eren's titan shifting abilities mean this habit will only make others assume he is the enemy. Levi has asked him to keep those thoughts in his head and address others in a more normal fashion._

  * _They stare at people to observe human behavior patterns. I've heard so many stories about psychics manipulating their way to fame and fortune, but Eren seems to simply categorize how people act and stay silent. He's very blunt, actually. I think he might be a terrible liar but only time will tell._

  * _They collect hair samples from people to keep up with how others are doing. Eren inquired about a blank notebook, and I supplied him with one of mine on the basis I be present as he shows me how the notebook is used._




_Eren and I spent an hour or so last night talking about the notebook, and finding a way to press the hair into the pages in a way that kept them still and left the hair exposed for reading. (I ended up digging out thin paper strips and a strong adhesive to keep the tips pressed down) I was pressed into page 4 and printed my name next to the inch or so Eren cut off._

_Before we parted for the night Eren also printed Levi's name on page 1._

 

* * *

 

Eren had trouble sleeping.

He had passed out for hours after Trost, slipping into a state of dreaming so intense he couldn't really tell how many days had passed. All he had to do was sleep. When he wasn't sleeping he was rubbing his hand until he was tired enough to sleep again. Then when he was free Hanji had robbed him of precious rest, making him just as tired as he was when this entire cycle started.

Now he couldn't sleep.

It was a shame, really. Eren had scanned around his new basement room feeling a bit down he couldn't enjoy it to its full extent. This room didn't even have chains in it. He even had a little table for his lantern. The bed was a tad more decent than the bunks in the training camp, which meant technically it was the most comfortable bed Eren had laid in since he was about ten.

Instead of sleeping, Eren had thought, wiggled, rolled, and thought some more until he ended up in a tight blanket cocoon facing the rear of the bed. Even that helped nothing. Though he had enough sense to tuck a pillow in his blanket tube to save himself from being sore the next day. Eren had shrunk into his tube letting the thoughts that had built up that week wash over him.

The bit of him that was trained as a human, as a soldier, was worried about his duties. He needed to learn more about this titan power. He needed to prove himself worthy of the Legion. The knots of worry tugged at his chest and just kept _pulling_ and _pulling_ -Eren had screwed his eyes shut and buried himself deeper into his odd blanket nest. A good soldier wouldn't worry like this. He _would_ prove himself. He would follow any order he was given if it meant he could aid in the freedom of humanity.

The bit of him that ran on seer instinct, a part of him that seemed to grow and absorb him more and more each year, was kicking him repeatedly in the ass for what he had heard in court. He had swung at Mikasa. He had lost control. Eren couldn't be bothered to correct his thought process as he was assaulted by _No you do NOT hurt your humans hurting your humans is a terrible thing to do how could you that was your sister thing_

Eventually the two sides combined into one monster gnawing at his mind, driving Eren to attempt to kick the wall in frustration. His blanket cocoon didn't allow the movement to proceed and Eren ended up kicking himself in the calf.

How would Hanji's experiments go? Eren bit his lip, worrying his tongue against teeth impressions as the information regarding his last transformations filtered through his thoughts. He only vaguely remembered any of it. It had felt so hazy, so feverish and...and...

_Detached_

Normally this thought wouldn't scare him. He had detached before. It was natural for a seer. Sometimes in order to accomplish an objective they simply turned themselves off. It was one of the things that made others fear them, the way all emotion could wash away only to leave behind a determined amoral shell of a person. He had practiced over time as a child. He had seen his mother do it once when a client of hers was being _very_ persistent and she had calmly reached over the table to break his fingers.

The last time Eren had detached fully was the day he met Mikasa, since then, he had never fully removed himself. He had done practice runs when they needed something to survive. Neither him or his humans ever talked about what they did to survive the slums after Maria fell, but Eren still remembered how low things had sunk. All the times he needed to sweet talk more rations because there simply wasn't enough. The times he plastered a fake smile on his face and appealed to the most disgusting humans of them all so Armin wouldn't have to go hungry or Mikasa wouldn't need to split her breakfast among three people.

Eren had never been too good at doing it for long anyway. The day he stabbed those men he broke his detachment and let anger take over. Hot fury. He had intended to stay completely silent and calm-the screaming rage only coming when he had seen Mikasa tied up on the floor like she was some prize that they had won on a hunt. That anger had threatened to swarm him again after the wall fell.

His mother had mentioned he was much too emotional for a seer. He never truly understood that. As much as anger and hatred could harm, one of the reasons he loved Armin so much was because he showed so much care and affection. He wanted to be like his human. His efforts at removing himself always failed because one emotion would overpower and take over.

The detachment he felt as a titan was different. He suspected that was what it really felt like. He didn't feel a thing, his brain barely registering his movements, his body simply _moving_ to _kill kill kill_ with mindless indulgence. The rage that powered him was a mere trickle in the back of his mind as he focused so intensely it burned. It had felt powerful. The fear he felt at this ability was nothing to the sense of pure power and achievement he felt when he killed a titan with his large hands.

It had all crashed that day in the courtroom when he learned he had swung at one of his humans. His sister thing no less. Yes, he could get angry, and snippy with her, he could be a stubborn ass and fight and spit venom, but he would never hurt her.

But he had tried.

_What if it happens again?_

The thought chilled him. He had wanted to improve his detachment, it was seer instinct and crucial to their development, but what if he detached completely and lost his senses? What if he lost all control? As powerful as he was and as much as he had helped by plugging the wall, he had already taken so long to gain control that so many people needlessly died...and he hadn't felt a thing. Inside the titan he barely understood.

If he learned to remove his emotion like a proper seer, would this make him like he was inside the titan? Or would the titan take control completely? Seers valued control over so much else. Not having control and being controlled by something other than themselves was unthinkable unless they gave some sort of consent. And that was rare.

If he lost control then Levi would kill him, too. That was almost as bad as swinging at his human. He had idolized Humanity's Strongest for so long and now he was _here_. In _Levi's squad_. Talking with the man and actually _working_ with him. He didn't deny he was finding the captain more and more interesting by the minute, too. There was something about Levi's quirks that drew Eren's curiosity in like a moth to a lantern. Why did he need everything to be so clean? Why were the bags under his eyes so heavy? Why did he hold his teacup that way? What the _fuck_ was the thing around his neck?

If Eren died before those questions were answered, he would come back as a spirit and pester Jean to find out for him. That stupid horse faced medium was probably going to be living it up in Sina by the end of the week. Eren half regretted not exposing him to the other trainees so he could endure the circus stares and invading questions.

Maybe he could later. If any of his class joined him in the Legion he would see if it was possible to slip in 'Jean can talk to dead people' to casual conversation. Maybe mail fliers to the Military Police base.

What was he thinking about again? Right, Levi. Interesting Levi.

Eren rolled once more in his odd cocoon in a fit of self irritation. Why was he so interested anyway? Maybe it was because Levi listened. Not in the sense he had sat down and had heart-to-hearts-he was very positive Levi would kick him in the face again if he asked for one-it was the fact when Eren mentioned something, Levi actually took his words into consideration. He wasn't ignored. He was willing to give his hair even though he considered it a disgusting habit.

Back in training it had taken several months before the 104th would listen to him. It was like a routine. Eren would check his parchment, rub his hand, make a prediction or give advice, and most of them would ignore any word he said.

It was Mina who outed him as a seer in the first place. It wasn't her fault. Eren couldn't blame her-her uncle had been his mother's client once and Mina simply remembered the family name. It happens. It was the reason seers didn't cause as much trouble as they did in the days before the walls, names could mean family being traced and Eren had no intention of hiding his name from the military.

Mina had outed him in the bunks, leading to an hour long argument-which Eren would forever claim was just a loud discussion-over the actuality of his abilities. The next day Eren had woken up and stated it was going to rain immediately after opening his eyes. Everyone told him to shut up, Connie told Sasha over breakfast, and Sasha had nodded and grabbed her rain slicker. She was the only dry one that day besides Eren and his humans. It turns out her village had a seer who aided with hunts before he died, and trusting the words of a vision was basic common sense where she came from.

Everyone else had either followed her lead or taken weeks to listen. Even then Eren knew there was a large number of others who thought he was a scam artist.

He appreciated Levi being willing to listen from the first vision onwards. He knew there was skepticism in his allegiance, knew all his actions and words would be examined for evidence of betrayal-but Levi merely listened to what he had to say and treated his words as what they were. But then again maybe it was too early to tell, it had barely been two days, the rest of the squad was still second guessing his claims, what was he think-

“What the fuck?”

Eren jerked, eyes shooting open-marveling at the realization he actually had dozed off at some point-and his shoulders rolled to push his head through the opening in his blankets. Levi stared at him with an utterly confused raise of the brow, holding a lantern in one hand as he faced the bed. Eren didn't realize how weird his cocoon must seem to others. It was actually very comfy, he was going to sleep this way from now on-but that's beside the point, the point was Levi was looking at him like flowers had sprouted out of his ears.

“Good morning sir. Is it time for breakfast?” Eren could feel the crust of dried drool on his lip corners,ignoring it for the moment to hold Levi's gaze as he spoke.

“No. I came to tell you if you want hot water for your shower you need to get going now.” Levi was still scrutinizing his cocoon like it was some alien object. Had Levi never discovered the wonders of blanket cocoons? He must be corrected of this failure immediately.

“There are showers here?” Eren craned his head in surprise. Showers were a recent introduction to homes, only within the last thirty years or so, he figured castles lacked the plumbing availability.

Levi's eyebrows briefly raised in disgust. “Of course there are showers here. This place was refurbished to act as a base. Soldiers fucking stink when they work.” He set the lantern down to cross his arms then paused, blinking, and raised his eyebrow again. “How are you getting out of that?”

Good question. Eren wiggled his torso to make room, finding none, then started wiggling his legs-he briefly felt freedom before he realized he had rolled to the edge of the bed and had no way of stopping.

The thud his body made against the floor was anticlimactic, and met with a wordless stare from the captain. “Who the hell let you in the military?” Eren ignored the comment and focused on caterpillar crawling back on the bed, jerking his arms to free himself. He was the farthest he could be from a majestic butterfly that morning. He needed to wipe this little moment away.

“So, what's the schedule for today?” Eren tugged his arms free, parting the white sheets enough to untangle his legs and reveal his rumpled sleeping clothes. The captain tore his eyes away to stare at the dresser against the wall.

“We're going to spend the morning clearing the yard since Shitty Glasses interrupted. In the later part of the afternoon we'll begin conducting the first tests of your abilities.”

“Already?” Eren stands up, smoothing his clothes, giving Levi a questioning glance as he walks past the shorter man to rummage for clothes. He's pleased to see everything is clean. Not like it wouldn't be, the Military Police never let him change...or gave him his things... “It seems a bit early for that.”

“We have one month before we take you outside the walls. We need to know anything we can so the factors of shit that can go wrong aren't so huge.” Levi leans against the table, then suddenly jerks up. “Oh wait, I almost forgot...”

“What?”

“Here.” Levi reaches into his coat pocket and his hand emerges with a carefully folded piece of tissue paper. He sets it down on top of the dresser, placing it next to the little notebook. “It's my hair. Try not to lose it or drop it everywhere.”

“It won't be a problem, sir.” Eren grins at the prospect of another addition. It was agonizing enough without Mikasa and Armin around, he needed the distraction. “I'll add you in immediately.” Eren rummaged around the drawer for the paper strips and glue-also laying out his clothes for after his shower-smiling as he set the supplies up. The hair inside the tissue was short, some of it too short for real use, but the longer strands were enough. It was still a small sample though. Maybe he could collect more on the next round of haircuts.

The vision upon touching the hair was worth the wait. He ran the substance (surprisingly soft and silky) through his fingertips, closing his eyes as he drifted, then turned to the captain. “Don't let Aurou clean the windows anytime soon. He'll slip and break his neck.”

Eren then continued to press the hair in as if nothing had happened.

He could feel Levi staring, the man was still facing him and all, but it wasn't until Eren was finished pressing the strip down and blowing on the glue that he spoke in a tone that sounded like bricks hitting the ground.

“What.”

“The vision. Aurou slipped on some moss and snapped his neck. I don't know about you but I'd prefer if he didn't die.” Eren left the book open to give the glue drying time, putting his fresh clothes in a neat pile so the captain wouldn't berate him for messiness.

“And this happens soon?”

“Could be.” Eren shrugged. He propped his clothes under his arm, padding back to the bed to slip his boots on. “Could be next week. Could be next month. Could be a year from now. I'm just relying on context clues.”

Levi sagged his shoulders and allowed his arms to dangle at his sides. “You're oddly calm about this.”

“When I was younger I did panic a little. But it's kind of common to see death.” His smile turned sad as he adjusted his boots. “It's the reason seers don't attach to too many people. We see all the possibilities, all the different ways a person could die, and sometimes we can't prevent it.”

Levi was quiet. “That's fucked up.”

“I know. But it's what we're born with, so we just figure out a way to prevent ourselves from having mental breakdowns.”

“And what way is that?”

Eren stilled, clothes still clutched in his hands, toes curling in his boots and thought over the subject eating at his head all night. How _was_ he going to solve this issue? If he detached like a seer was supposed to, he might lose control of his titan...

And if he didn't detach to keep control, then...he didn't know what would happen to him as a person. Was there ever a seer who didn't detach? Someone who interacted with others and had friends like a normal person?

Eren shook his head and covered his worries with a grin. “It's nothing important. So can you lead me to the showers? I'll meet you for breakfast after coming back down for my notebook.”

Levi stared, regarded him for a moment, then nodded his head while taking the lantern and leading them both up the stairs.

 

* * *

 

Miles away in the temporary base for military trainees, Jean Kirschstein paused while getting dressed.

“Something wrong?” Marco sat up from his position on the floor, tapping Jean's clothed feet to get his attention.

“I...don't know.” Jean rubbed his forehead, running his hand through his hair in an attempt to tame the messy strands. “...I just feel like something bad is about to happen.”

“Maybe it's just nerves. Induction is tonight. Not every bad feeling is an omen.” Marco tried to cheer him up with a grin that went unnoticed.

“Yeah...maybe..”

 

 

 


	4. Human

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the actual plot of this story kicks off and Eren's seer instinct grips him with vengeance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY
> 
> I had so much goddamn trouble with this chapter. I dreaded it and wanted it at the same time and I was pouring over manga pages trying to memorize lines before I realized "You fucking dumbshit this is canon divergence you don't have to copy word for word." 
> 
> I'm an idiot. 
> 
> But I'm an idiot who broke 8 pages in Open Office writing this garbage 
> 
> Interesting fact about seers: Sometimes they won't get a specific vision, but CAN tell when something is about to happen. It's an innate 'I just know' feeling. The most common form of this is predicting the weather.

_Notes from the desk of Hanji Zoe: Psychics_

_Subject: Curiosity_

_Eren is acting very peculiar lately. He's very absorbed in his book, even with only two samples in it, and has the happiest little smile on his face. I had to snap my fingers five times to get his attention!_

_But once I got it I was able to approach about the topic. Curiosity. Why a page dedicated to it? Seers are naturally curious about every little thing. It's fascinating! Eren watches people, absorbs information about their body language, their speaking habits, their eyes, their looks-he files all this information away in his head and sometimes he approaches to ask why. Why do you do this peculiar thing?_

_I asked and apparently it's instinct. Visions bring information about the future, and as a result seers love absorbing useful information of all kinds. If it captures their attention they learn everything they can. Eren tells me that when he was younger he devoted hours and hours to searching for stories of the world beyond the walls. It was his curiosity that started his drive to join the Legion in the first place._

_I've really enjoyed observing his curious drive in action._

_Eren hasn't been here long but he already memorized the stats for the SO squad, how clean Levi expects his quarters to be (above human possibility by my opinion) and how everyone in the castle takes their tea. Today at breakfast he stared at Levi the entire meal, cocking his head to the side, and making a humming noise when Levi picked his drink up._

_Petra nearly coughed all over herself when he finally blurted “Captain, you drink weird.”_

 

* * *

 

The schedule for Eren's testing was simple and to the point of priority: Eren's titan shifting would undergo testing in the afternoon, with sessions testing his visions in the evening if exhaustion didn't wear him out. Or if he didn't die. He still had issues with Levi's 'cut Eren out in a hurry' plan, but deep down it wasn't out of distrust, it was because seer instinct was screaming “SELF PRESERVATION” at the top of its metaphorical lungs in his mind. If both tests went well enough then a schedule could be worked out with Hanji after Erwin's formation plans were finished and sent their way, and a plan could be made of how to use Eren's ability to the best extent during the expedition.

Which translated in Eren's mind to “You're going to be busy as shit for the rest of the month”.

Initially he had been excited about that. He had work to do. Real work, hard work, work that could be used by the Legion for the betterment of humanity. He was glad he had so much on his plate. He could prove to the others that he was a good soldier, he was worthy and he could control himself. But then...then it was as if someone had dropped a lead weight on his lungs.

Eren nearly dropped his drink at the feeling. The weight on his chest, his vision blurring a bit as he tried to breathe, a sense of utter _dread_ trying to activate his 'fight or flight' response-it sunk into all his limbs and Eren knew he needed to tell _someone_ immediately. He had felt this before. It wasn't nearly as strong today, no, not nearly as strong, but it was there and it needed to be addressed.

So he went to the person he knew had any power over the days events.

“Today is a bad day.”

“What?”

Eren instinctively reached to rub his hand, thumb ghosting over where imprints of teeth should be. “Today is a bad day, Levi.” He repeated. Levi stalled while saddling his horse and glanced back to the seer with a concerned crease of his brow. The large black creature made a noise of annoyance that Levi had left his saddle just sitting there.

“Is this a psychic thing or just nerves?”

“Psychic thing.” Eren bounced on his toes in an attempt to vanish the antsy feeling in his bones. “We um-we feel like this when something big or bad is going to happen.” The feeling tightened painfully when Levi locked their eyes. A sharp blue grey drilling into blue green. “It could be something happening to me, or something bad in general, I don't know which.”

“Has this ever happened before?” Levi turned fully and placed a hand on his shoulder, making Eren finally plant his shoes firmly on the ground. Had he been bouncing that badly? He couldn't tell with these damn nerves.

“Um, the day Trost happened.” Eren licked his lips, eyes darting down to his hands before going back to Levi's narrowed eyes. Trost had been terrible. The dread was so forceful he felt ill, he had smiled to keep up morale and hope things would be okay, graduation was coming, all would be well-and the dread became sharp _fear_ and _anger_ when the shadow of the Colossal loomed over the walls behind him. “It was like someone was standing on my chest the entire morning.”

“Before that?”

Eren thought. Nothing too terrible had really happened, but one incident rang out. But he wasn't sure if he had even _had_ a feeling about it. “I _think_...well I don't know. It might have been the day Maria fell, but I was too young for those kinds of predictions, and-” Eren could feel his nerves sizzle the longer Levi's hand stayed on his shoulder. What was the deal with that? It was oddly comforting and the most anxiety festering thing at the same time. He could feel the urge to babble endlessly surge up and try to control his tongue. “But I'm older now so it comes easier and stronger, and today isn't _as_ bad as Trost but it still feels terrible and-”

“Do you want extra safety precautions?” Levi's hand finally peeled away, Eren wanting to complain at the lack of warmth, and the shorter man went back to saddling his horse with a determined demeanor that told Eren he was still listening. Possibly worried? He really needed to learn Levi's body language.

“You-” Eren swallowed and attempted to make his voice level. “You would do that?”

“Whether you're trustworthy or not, you can see the goddamn future. If we don't listen to what you have to say we'd be idiots.” Levi hoisted himself up and cocked his head to continue the conversation from atop the animal. “I'll talk to Hanji and we'll see what we can do when he get to the test site. If you have a vision that has bad shit in it tell us. Okay?”

“Yes sir.” Eren nodded and moved aside for Levi to leave the stable, then took a large breath before moving to where his own was waiting. His nerves settled a little as he prepped to leave, the monotonous motions soothing his frayed brain, allowing him to stop and really _think._ He had reported his feeling to someone who actually might give a shit. Steps were being taken. Things might be okay if he stayed cautious. That was why he had this sight in the first place. Take the future into consideration and take steps to avoid outcomes that are unpleasant.

He could do this.

Things would be okay.

 

* * *

 

Things were not okay. Things were not okay at all.

He had failed. When he was given the signal to transform he had been so _confident._ He held his hand up to his mouth, taking a deep breath, and repeated the words he had drilled into his head all night.

_Maintain control. You are acting as a human now. Not a seer. Not a titan. You are a human in control._

He bit down.

He bit down again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

Growing more and more frustrated each time, he kept biting, he kept sinking his teeth too deep into his flesh, eyes flashing yellow-steam? Yelling? Was that Levi's voice?-from the blood running freely over his skin and collecting in his mouth. Anger and desperation welled inside him. He needed to transform, he needed to change, without his power taking Maria was hopeless and he was a failure as a weapon what _good_ would be be to the Legion-

Levi and Hanji's disappointed faces at the top of the well was more of a punch to the gut than it should have been. He couldn't help but apologize.

He felt like he had let everyone down then. As Levi bandaged his hand, mopping the blood off and not even making a fuss about the stains, Eren kept his eyes focused on the ground. Had his power vanished? Why couldn't he trigger it? Why could he even do it in the first place if _no one_ had ever given him instructions?

“Is the feeling you had gone yet?” Levi's voice snapped him out of his moping momentarily, Eren's eyes slowly rolling up to meet his. He was deathly serious. Eren felt a bit touched, in a way.

“No. It's actually a little worse.” The lead in his lungs had changed to rope. Or maybe a snake. Something was coiling around his innards and squeezing him to death on the inside.

Levi 'hm'ed to himself at this statement. Eren could see him chewing his bottom lip as he tucked away the unused bandages. “I'll make sure nothing happens. Rest your hand for now, your goddamn razor teeth nearly chewed it off.”

Something about the order calmed him, but Eren couldn't place what. When they returned to the castle maybe he would investigate. Or maybe he was just too interested in the Captain. Eren shook his head free of the thought, flexing his fingers and hissing at the sting of pain.

“Your wounds aren't healing?” Levi picked up a cup of tea for himself, keeping his focus on Eren's hand. Specifically on the lack of steam from said hand.

“No sir...” If anything they were hurting more. He could feel a pulsing heartbeat in the bites, each throb sending small shocks through his veins.

“If your power vanished, then Erwin's entire plan is shot.” It never amazed him how harsh Levi could be with his bluntness. Eren _knew_ this. He knew because he spent every second since he first bit down panicking. Grasping for control. His panic was even spreading, he could see it on the faces of the soldiers around him, they were afraid that Eren had either lost control or lost his usefulness entirely. “Maria will never be plugged, and humanity will lose future victories, effectively making everything go down the fucking drain.” Eren shrunk under his words. Levi stood, still holding his drink, and sent the coldest look Eren had seen yet. The shock shook him down to his depths. For someone so small and unassuming Levi was a terrifying man. Maybe that's why he was the one reminding him of what his failure meant. “I'm ordering you to do something about it.”

“Y-Yes sir...”

Petra was the one to follow him, her words of “He's still young Captain” and “Try not to scare people so much” lost to the wind. That only left Eren with the other men of the SO squad.

Eren couldn't blame them for being awkward.

“Hey, don't be so down.” Erd prompted, nudging Eren's hand. “Nothing too bad happened.”

“But-but I failed.” Eren could feel his shoulders sink with the words. He had failed, he was useless, he was-

“It just means you're more human than we thought.” Aurou shrugged in an exaggerated fashion, taking a long swill from his cup before slamming it back down. “And a human is easier to deal with.”

“But I'm not human.” The response had been automatic. Eren kicked himself inwardly. Fuck. Fucking shit. No. Now all of them were looking at him oddly. Eren took a chance to check-yes, the captain was standing away from all of them, talking to Petra, no attention focused towards the table-before swallowing and rubbing his hand through the bandages.

“Yes you are. You look like any other fifteen year old.” Erd raised a brow in question. “Titan abilities notwithstanding.”

“I mean the _other_ thing. Wait, Erwin and Levi did mention that, right?” Eren shrunk further in his seat. In training he had never denied what he was but this was different, what if Erwin wanted to keep it a secret? Secret weapons aren't very secret if you go around telling everyone. “They _did_ inform you about my family?”

“You mean the crystal ball mumbo jumbo?” Aurou rolled his eyes with a smirk. Gunter sent a firm look of disapproval at this. “Sure, we know. I just don't believe it. No one can see the future. What about you, Erd?”

Erd shrugged. “I've never been a firm believer or non believer. I guess I would need to see proof. Gunter?”

“Heard stories. Never gave it much thought. I forgot about oracles entirely once I got older.” Gunter kept his arms folded on top of the table, tapping a rhythm with his fingers as he spoke. His expression turned slightly smug as he leveled with Aurou. “Petra believes in them. Her entire family does.”

Aurou didn't take kindly to this and flattened his lips into a straight line, shooting a burning glare at the trees instead of his teammate. “Whatever. Either way I think it's a sham.”

Erd shook his head before turning back to Eren, who had been silently observing the entire debate. Interesting. An entire team with different takes on mythology within the walls. “So you supposedly see things, that doesn't make you less human.”

“It isn't like that.” Eren shook his head. “It's...it's hard to explain. But being called human is as good as an insult.” He received even more confused looks for that. “I don't even fully understand it myself, since my education on this was cut short, but...in the big ladder of things, humans are below. Not in an offensive way or anything-”

“How is that not offensive?”

“Shut up Aurou-”

“ _Anyway_ , it's just...our powers give us an advantage. And we changed. And when we stopped and took a look down at humanity, the beings who we relied on for survival, we saw every corrupt, disgusting trait they had to offer and we were sickened. Saying a seer is human is saying we're stupid.” His eyes drifted back to Levi. Still drinking. Good. “That's not to say every human is stupid, it's just to say...” Eren shrugged. The answer was on his tongue but felt foreign. Humanity was a beautiful thing to him. But the scathing hatred of being called a normal human remained. He needed to forget that. He needed to be human so he could keep himself from becoming a monster. Even if it went against feelings bred into him. “Humans can do things that are utterly repulsive and cross lines seers see as sacred. They're willing to tear down families and loved ones. They infringe on others sense of self. All for their own desires. It's enough to make us vomit.”

There was a moment of silence at the table.

Aurou promptly broke it by snorting. “Damn kid, you must be fun at parties.”

“Is that really how they see humanity?” Gunter kept his gaze on the table. Eren hoped he hadn't alienated him.

“Maybe some.” He shrugged. “But personally...I think humanity is wonderful. My culture says I'm supposed to use you as tools and dolls until you're broken or can't provide for me, but as a whole I think this world and the people in it are amazing. There are bad people too but the potential of the race is outstanding. That's why I want to fix Maria. I want humanity to grow and flourish outside the wall in a world without titans. I want to see a world where we aren't held back by giants and the full capabilities of the people can be used.” He managed a smile. Gunter was also looking him in the face again, so maybe he hadn't driven the man away completely yet. “And that's why I'm angry at myself for failing to transform. I _want_ to use this power.”

Erd sighed and began chewing his cheek. He avoided Eren's eyes purposefully. “Maybe it's better this way. No one really had to risk themselves on a power you don't really know about. You didn't die because we rushed things.”

“Caution is always welcome.” Gunter muttered.

Eren fumed silently, watching as all three men took their eyes away from him. Why were they _happy_ at this outcome? If his shifting power was gone then everything was ruined. Why would they-

_Fear_

He could see it in their eyes. Fear of what was uncertain, but he knew he was the catalyst. They were scared. The same look was mirrored on every soldier in the testing fields, the ones who looked to him every few minutes expecting him to snap their neck. The ones who would instinctively reach for their blades if he so much as sneezed.

Still, fear was no excuse. They would need to talk about this. Eren huffed, injured hand bumping a spoon off the table without meaning to. The slight contact made the throbbing start again. “Dammit-”

Erd's head twitched to take a quick look at him. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I'm fine.” Eren leaned to grab the utensil, eyes widening as the lead in his limbs returned at the same time as _lightning_ erupted in his brain. He knew this feeling. He was very familiar with it. “SHI-”

The Fates were bitches and Eren wanted to find whatever realm they resided in and choke them with the eyeball they used to see through time, fuck this power, fuck the side effects, and fuck his lineage. Fuck it all.

And mostly fuck his father for the injection that started this all.

At the center of any titan transformation, Eren was barely aware of the things happening around him. He knew he had exploded. He knew the table was wrecked. He knew his tea was gone. But at the same time it took several seconds to remember his name, and realize that being surrounded by that much intense _heat_ was not a good thing.

Then came the voices. Blurred. Swimming. What was happening?

_Fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK TITAN FUCK_

_Then_ it hit him.

“Shit, no, no, why now? Why NOW!?” He tried desperately to yank his arm free of the intense heat encasing it, feeling no budge, instead feeling warmth, some moist-yet-not flesh, he could _feel_ through where his skin connected. He felt a complete lack of control. This was _not_ his plan.

“Calm down.”

The captain's voice was a welcome relief. “Captain Levi, I-” Eren turned, still yanking at his arm, then froze in mortification.

“I said calm down, men.” Levi had his back to Eren. He was facing his own squad, who all had their blades and were looking at _him_ with intensity. Why? He wasn't even attached to a complete titan, this was barely more than an arm! His body was still outside!

“Captain! Get away from there, it's dangerous!” Of course they cared more for the captain's safety, of course they didn't look at Eren's scared face. His panic built in his throat and his eyes focused on the small human that wouldn't budge.

“I'm fine.”

“How would you know that!?”

“Intuition.” The way he said it eased Eren's tension just a bit. Was Levi trusting him? Was at least one of the humans still looking after him? Or was Levi just waiting for the prime moment to slice his neck open when the giant arm wasn't an obstacle?

Eren shook, the urge for self preservation telling him to cut his losses and run. Run where? His arm was still hooked down!

Levi held a hand up, trying to burn the signal for 'stand down' into his squad, but they held firm. There was fear in their eyes. Determination. And if Eren looked hard enough, he swore he saw anger. The fury all soldiers held against their enemy.

_The humans have turned against you you must run run far away-_

Eren pushed the thought away. If this were a situation in business he would listen, if this were a deal in Shinganshina gone bad he would listen-but this wasn't a normal situation. He couldn't run. That would only put him in deeper trouble. Of course the immediate seer reaction to 'I can't run' was 'hurt them', which was an even worse option. Eren cursed his own species for once for their brutal tactics.

The yelling didn't help his frantic thoughts.

“Prove that you're still on the side of humanity!”

How could he _do_ that!? He was still stuck! He couldn't get any help! Every time he tried to meet their eyes there was no understanding, no realization he was as panicked as they were, there was only fear. Petra was nervously gripping her blades so tightly her hands were pale. Aurou had his teeth grit together looking for an open spot to strike. Erd moved as if Eren was planning to swing at him. Gunter just _glared_ like Eren had already proven he was the enemy.

Their screaming, their panic, became so _loud,_ it was too much, too much for him, he was opening his mouth to scream at them to shut their mouths-

“Eren.”

Levi's voice remained calm. Eren's eyes gravitated to meet his. Levi was the eye of the storm-he was still calm, still holding his hand out, and was ignoring the cries of his own squad to focus on Eren. He swore he felt his stomach explode at the notion. “Yes sir?”

“Is this the bad thing?”

Eren's shoulders seized, goosebumps rising on his skin. The dread he had felt all day was solid now. It eased the morning tension while dropping stones in his gut. This was exactly what he had been predicting. Eren nodded his head and Levi accepted the answer with a curt nod of his own.

“Calm the hell down, all of you!” Levi moved to stand closer to Eren. “If you don't I'll-”

“EEEEEEREEEEEEEEN!”

It was sung like a war cry, cutting through the air like one of the blades pointed in Eren's direction, and Eren could see Levi's expression subtly twitch to 'Fuck NO' just two seconds before Hanji launched herself at the steaming mass of flesh encasing Eren's arm.

“LEMME TOUCH IT!” Eren couldn't possibly have given her consent, as she went ahead and placed her hands on him at lightning speed before her request was even finished. It was almost amusing to watch her fall to her knees declaring how hot his arm was, going into a fit as if she had seen a god rise from the clouds with gold bags in each hand.

Levi took this gracious moment of distraction to focus his attention back on Eren. “Try to relax, you need to get out of that thing.”

Eren tugged once more in frustration. He wanted more than anything to be free but no matter how hard he pulled there was no give. “I don't know how.”

Levi frowned before leveling his voice and keeping a calm tone amidst all the chaos. Eren could see he was attempting to fix this the easy way. The plan to cut his limbs off wasn't even crossing his mind. Did he remember how nervous Eren had been over that? “Focus on me. I'm ordering you to release the arm. You're good at following orders. You can do this.”

The sudden praise startled him, but the soothing orders did alleviate his stress. Eren gave one mighty final tug -sweat coating him from the heat and steam- relishing in freedom when his arm popped out with a disgusting 'squelch' noise.

He enjoyed it for maybe two seconds, because he rolled backwards and hit the grass hard at Levi's feet.

Hanji immediately screamed her sadness, wanting more time to study the arm, more time to enjoy a live sample-Levi glared at her before turning his attention to the younger soldier. “How are you feeling?”

Eren clutched his arm to his chest. The arm was terribly warm, the sweat on his skin was disgusting, he felt sick to his stomach, the nerves bubbling in his body were making his breathing uneven, and to top it all off the people he had trusted had just tried to kill him. He was going to answer he felt sick, he felt terrible, Eren opened his mouth and raised his head-

Only to let every comment drain from his brain at the light of the setting sun hitting Levi's form. There was a memory flickering in his head from Trost. It was one of the first things he had pieced together after the mission and his senses returned. Armin sounded panicked, Mikasa was _somewhere_ he couldn't exactly place, the smoke and steam had mingled together so thickly and his ability to register events had blurred so much-but among it all he very much remembered Levi saving them and looking down with his cloak billowing in the wind.

That's right, Levi had been there too. And he had done a very good thing.

Suddenly Eren felt much calmer and his hotter hand dropped to his lap. His expression leveled out as he continued to stare at his superior officer. All the burning curiosity he had felt since their meeting in the dungeons under the courthouse swirled into a single thought. 

“Eren? Are you sick from all of that, answer me-”

Eren braced his weak knees and stood. “I'm okay Captain. All accounted for.” He knew the squad was moving around, sending scared glances his way. He knew Hanji was studying the decaying arm. He knew more soldiers were moving and yelling and the entire site was abuzz. But for the life of him all he could do was focus on Levi.

Levi ran his eyes over Eren suspiciously, wary of the change in demeanor. “We're cutting the rest of testing and reporting this for study.” The captain then turned and began marching to his horse. “Pack everything up.”

Eren barely registered the order. Why would he move when the object of such fascination was right in front of him? He needed to watch and take notes. It was Moblit, the poor soul who served Hanji, who tapped him on the shoulder and snapped him out of it.

“We need to go Eren.”

Eren nodded, stealing many glances back. His mind was far from the task he was given.

_That one. Yes, that one. I want that one to be my human. My special human. He's perfect._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's a special human? It's the exact reason I started writing this damn thing. Stay tuned more at 11-
> 
> I'm considering a chapter from Jean's POV next. It may or may not happen. Depends on how busy I become since my senior year just started. 
> 
> AS ALWAYS comments, questions, and kudos are SUPER appreciated! I'll answer any questions or concerns! 
> 
> AND I have a draft on my blog featuring the chat logs this fic is inspired by. Is anyone interested~?
> 
> edit: forgot to mention, I'm on twitter now! Follow me @Shingekicorn and pester me to write more while I make bad jokes


	5. Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean's official character arc starts. Eren is too absorbed by his human. Things are the same, yet at the same time different. And the author still procrastinates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took me a long time because every time we come across a canon scene, I open up the manga and look at the details. How did this conversation go? What was the context? How would this fic's events change this? 
> 
> The end result is events being the same...yet different at the same time. 
> 
> Mostly by how Eren's thought process is altered by basic psychic behavior.
> 
> And how Jean is actively repressing urges that come to every medium. Jean is trying to act more like a seer than Eren is, and for a medium that's VERY unhealthy. 
> 
> But that's what we get for having our protags be teenagers

_Notes from the desk of Hanji Zoe: Psychics_

_Subject: Intimacy_

_Apparently there is a massive cultural barrier between regular people and psychics. Eren's sense of what is acceptable as appropriate is drastically different than the cultural norms. Personally I find it fascinating! No one else shares my sentiment because Eren's insistence on constantly touching open skin is seen as 'creepy' and 'uncomfortable'. Aurou dribbled tea all over himself when Eren checked Levi this evening by pecking his head with a quick kiss. (Levi himself donned an expression I haven't seen since the great April Fools Day prank 3 years ago when I told him I was pregnant and proceeded to shove Eren five feet away. Eren just grinned.)_

_He's begun to greet me by firmly shaking my hand when others are around. If we're alone he brushes a hand against my cheek. Skin contact is a normal greeting for psychics as a quick check up with humans they're familiar with. I asked him what else is done and the answers provided the subject for this entry._

_Kissing is a common greeting. On the lips, cheek, hand, hair, bare shoulder-any open skin is subject. I asked him whether or not lovers were specially given the kiss treatment and he seemed very confused._

“ _Hanji, kissing is just lip contact on the body. Why is that so special?”_

_I responded with the obvious answer of the other type of kissing. Eren's answer didn't disappoint._

“ _Oh, that isn't super romantic. That depends on intent. I could play tongue party with an MP for information and I wouldn't give a shit about them. Super romantic stuff would be just relaxing skin to skin."_

_This answer especially intrigued me. “What do you mean by intent, Eren?” I asked._

“ _Well any action depends on what you mean. I'd be perfectly willing to use myself as a tool to gain information. But fucking someone for a purpose and being intimate with a lover are two completely different things.” I'm not going into the implications behind this. Eren is only fifteen. I truly wonder what goes on in the survivor slums and the training camps. Whatever it is Eren doesn't seem bothered._

“ _But using the same action.”_

“ _Without the same feelings. It's really common. Seers use this strategy all the time to get what they want, playing grab ass with someone to get a reward is just part of the job. We can sleep with a client to further a deal then go home to our spouse.”_

_I told him that would never go over well with a human spouse. Adultery IS generally frowned upon in polite society._

“ _Not by seer standards. It isn't cheating if you feel nothing for the subject. It's different if you specifically go out to get satisfaction from someone who isn't your lover.” He paused for a moment to think, and I was sure our conversation would be over. But then he told me something that leaves me sure others like him may just be more compassionate than they say they are. “Though if your human is bothered by that strategy, it isn't that big of a deal to take that option off the table. It's better to keep your special human happy than to upset them with business. I know my mom refused to ever do it because it made my dad uncomfortable.”_

_I told him it seemed very sweet to be so considerate._

“ _Oh stop, you're making me sound like one of those bleeding heart mediums.”_

_(I should ask him what he meant by that next...)_

  

* * *

 

 Jean had always hated his power.

Being a medium was supposed to be a great gift. This was what his father had told him when he was young and he saw the shadows in the room moving, when he heard voices that weren't attached to bodies and thumps in the walls that belonged to no mouse he had ever seen. Unlike seers mediums had their sight instantly from day one. Jean could see past the veil that separated life and death from the day he was born.

Bloodlines like theirs weren't ever at risk like seers either. Their business was more private. They stayed out of trouble. They worked as grief counselors, aiding the tortured departed and their families through their efforts. Jean remembered tagging along with his father when he was younger as he helped a peculiar vengeful soul move on. It had felt satisfying. The final smile as a spirit accepted their passing and moved on. The happy tears of the family as their loved one became at peace.

But even that satisfying feeling wasn't enough to make Jean enjoy the shitty gift his father had passed down to him. He hated it. He hated everything about it. He hated it from the first time an angry departed had come into his room when he was four to scream how she needed vengeance against who killed her. He hated it from the days when a pair of dead twins would pinch his skin and hide his things so they could laugh at him. He hated it from the time he turned ten and a spirit had tried to possess him to gain a second chance at life. Mediums were magnets, they were lighthouses and all the dead in Trost flocked to his family as a result.

Jean hated everything that had to do with this work. It was one of the reasons he wanted to go to Sina. There was food, wealth, protection-and a lack of walking dead that made his heart sing. Nearly all the dead in Sina were underground. One of the reasons someone would come back was a lack of a proper burial, and in Sina only the poor in the slums couldn't afford such things. He would never have to deal with the angry spirits again.

That had been his drive. He wanted to escape and maybe for once feel like his eyes were normal.

There had been maybe one time in his life when he felt that way, and even that ended in a horrible crash and burn. He had just turned ten, his possession thwarted, he had still been reeling in the emotional fallout that followed the impromptu exorcism performed by his family-when he had met the only other medium in town besides his father. She was a pretty young woman, late teens at the most, yellow hair pinned up and a scarlet dress fixed in a way she could run, worked as the local midwife's assistant-

And she had the foulest mouth he had ever come across. The insults Shadis tossed didn't compare to the utter vulgarity she used in every other sentence. The day they met she called him 'a fucking shitsucking cockmuncher' because he had walked right into an _obviously_ haunted alleyway in his daze and didn't notice the dangerous spirit laying in wait for unsuspecting humans. She had been lucky enough to watch him do it and yanked him out before he was possessed again.

She had been the one to tell him about Sina. She had been the one to listen to his complaints. She was like him in a way. She had the sight thrust upon her without her wishes and was dealing with the terrible aftermath herself. She was one of the rarer mediums, the ones who were gifted later in life from a force outside their family. He had spent a good chunk of that year confiding in her where he was too afraid to tell his family. He didn't want to do what his father did and act as a guide. He wanted to be normal. She had actually been a small bit of comfort who could deal with the dead when he couldn't.

He never did like thinking about how that story ended. He preferred to pretend she didn't exist and had never met him. It was another secret he would bury. If anything it was another reason for him to join the Military Police and leave his old life behind. He could run far away from the horrors that came with this supposed gift.

He had spent all three years of his training hiding. Eren had caught on early, picking on him about it at every chance since seers and mediums were apparently mortal enemies, but respectfully didn't out him for reasons unknown. Maybe the dumbass really did have standards. He suspected maybe Annie thought something was up when he mistook a ghost cat for a real one ( _again_ ) outside the mess hall. He had every intention of hiding until he was safe in a spirit free zone where he never had to worry about the wandering departed bothering him and interfering in his life.

Which made his decision to join the Legion all the more gut wrenching. He was violating everything he had stood for in training. He was willingly going into a field that would kill him and put him near battlegrounds filled with the dead.

But the pang in his chest, the one of pure sympathy and yearning to help, comforted him in his choice. That seemed to be the weakness of people like him. When you spend your life surrounded by the woes of the dead you became inclined to help others. And humanity needed all the help it could get. It was simply the right thing to do.

No matter now much Jean went over this, he still couldn't keep the panic and nausea down as he and the other trainees entered the Scouting Legion headquarters.

_There were so many dead._

The Legion was never known for low mortality rates. They always lost dozens on every trip, so many soldiers being ripped apart, so many with regrets and unfinished business. Jean could count the amount of dead on all his digits twice over before the first day was even done. Marco had taken a more somber expression too. He looked more and more put down every time a crying or still-bloody soul passed by. It became worse when accidental eye contact was made and one would wander over wanting to chat or demand help with their unfinished business. Marco was kind enough to deflect them so no one would notice Jean's attention slipping. Jean hated not being able to talk to Marco then, pretending he wasn't there while they went about their duties, but knew he needed to stay quiet. He still had no desire to blow his cover.

Marco did not share this sentiment.

“You should tell someone.” Jean could almost feel his ghostly fingers prodding his neck during their first lesson in the lecture hall. He regretted picking the seat in the very back. No one could hear him unless he raised his voice. “You already have a headache, right? And the noise is distracting you from what people are saying. You won't live very long by pretending the problem isn't there.”

“I'm not telling anyone.” Jean hissed. Marco pouted and phased through the desk, popping his torso out so he could level his eyes with Jean. Jean could still see the instructor at the board through his skull. It made faking his attention a smidgen easier. “Get out of the way, this is an important lesson.”

“It's strategy. You can ask Armin for notes. Maybe start talking about gifts of the eye variety."

“Stop talking with your head sticking out of furniture. It's weird.”

“I'll stop when you listen.” Marco pulled his arms through the desk so he could gesture as he spoke. “This place is crawling with the dead. I don't know much about being a medium, but I do know from the time I've died up until now that spirits make you uncomfortable and on edge. That will get you killed. You need to find someone to help you cope.”

“I'll be fine. I've dealt with it so far and Trost was crawling with dead people.” Jean gripped his pencil tighter as he missed another important point the instructor was pointing out. Dammit. He hated falling behind. He actually would have to ask Armin after this.

“No you didn't. If you did you wouldn't have stayed hidden for three years and avoided anything with a 'haunted' rumor.” Marco's brow crinkled in a way Jean could only describe as 'pure sass' crossed with 'mom is disappointed in you'. He wanted to hate the way he was being seen through, but this particular spirit was good at kneading his soft spot.

He had a suspicion it was his way of saying “I'm sorry you died”. He was too scared to ask what exactly had happened. He was afraid to know. He just wanted to make sure his friend was happy. He would probably let Marco do anything he wanted since the life he dreamed of was taken from him.

But breaking down and seeking solace in others was firmly out of the question. Not after last time.

“Is it too much to ask not to be involved with this? There's a reason I was saving telling you for Sina.”

Marco was contemplative. He sighed, or mocked a sigh since he no longer had lungs, and moved to the empty chair to Jean's left. “You should still find a better coping method. I'm not good enough for this. I'm already dead. You need living insight.”

“I'm fine. I'll get used to ignoring this many. I won't let them bother me.”

“Is that how you've always dealt with it?” Marco tilted his head back into Jean's vision, obscuring the lecture again. Sooner or later someone would notice his eyes kept moving to stare at nothing. “I've been telling the other dead to leave you alone all day, did ignoring them ever actually work before now?”

Jean blanched. A memory flickered through his mind of childhood, of the one year he didn't curse his vision and the color red became common.

Of eyes so black he could feel the shadows in Hell within their depths.

“...not always. But it's the only thing that I could do.”

 

* * *

 

 

If Eren had been stressed that morning, he had completely forgotten that now. It was lightyears away in his mind.

All he could focus on was his human.

Despite his insistence that he needed to be more human himself, seer instinct gripped his heart with an iron will. The impulses burned in his brain and he simply let them come. This was how they worked. Pushing away something like his human would only cause stress and regret.

He wondered if his mother had felt this way when she decided on his father. He knew it wasn't immediate, his mother had been vague on how long she knew his father before deciding, but he did know she more or less grabbed him by the hair and never let him go. That seemed to be how it was done. Once you decided on your special human, you attached to them like a leech and sought out everything you needed to know about them.

So he needed to absorb every little bit he could about his human. His human was short, pale, had silky hair that he preferred not to have touched-Eren had gotten a slap on the wrist to learn that tidbit-and as far as looks went he _was_ plenty attractive. If you looked past his sharp glares you could see amazing details on what Eren was sure was a beautiful body. Intense eyes, perfect looking lips, curved but oh-so-strong jawline. The muscles lurking under that uniform spoke of true promise.

His human was strong. Monstrously strong. His human always seemed to be bored. His human loved black tea and soap. His human was a hard worker and a stickler for clean things. His human loved his horse despite it being a messy animal and would sneak it treats when Petra wasn't looking.

Eren wanted to spend forever absorbing information about his human. This was such an important day! He couldn't wait to tell Armin and Mikasa! After all picking the special human only happens once in a lifetime, and he wanted his family to share the joy. Having them celebrate would almost make up for the fact his mother wasn't around to see his choice and compliment his chosen human.

His human apparently did not share the urge to absorb all available quirks and twitches. Oh well. Eren would fix that soon.

Levi simply grew tired of waiting for Eren to speak and opened his mouth to comment himself. Perhaps he hadn't noticed Eren's eyes boring into his form for the past hour.

“You seem pretty relaxed considering what happened today.”

Eren hummed, eyes still boring into his human. “I am a bit bothered. I just have my mind on something else.” The something else being this amazing specimen of human that needed to be studied endlessly. What was his favorite food? Book? What did he think was fun? He really needed answers for these questions. “I know I”m under scrutiny, for my power and all, but until they turned their swords on me I never really realized they didn't trust me. That's insulting to a seer.”

“Of course they don't trust you.” Levi's eyes flicked to Eren's, seemingly realizing Eren had been staring at him the entire time. If he was creeped out he didn't notice. “They wouldn't trust you even if you weren't a psychic. That's why I picked them.”

“Seers are used to gaining trust though. It's for preservation purposes.” Eren shrugged. “It's instinct. When humans turn on us we usually cut and run. Literally.”

Levi grimaced. Eren wondered if he had witnessed the literal cutting before. Probably, considering Petra said he lived in the capital. Eren knew seers flocked there from all over the walls since the opportunities for wealth and safety were so abundant. Most of them were young and itching to cause trouble. Oh well. Psychics reserved actual killing for the very last option, if Levi had seen something that terrible they must have been very very desperate.

“It just hurts a bit knowing how easily they would turn on me.” Eren tapped his fingers against his knee. It did bother him. As dedicated as he was to aiding humanity, there was so much doubt on his person. And seers never tolerated doubt. “It also means my safety judgment was wrong and I'll have to study them all over again. That's a pain.”

“I didn't pick them to be your friends, brat.” Levi clenched his arms a bit at Eren's suddenly casual tone.

“I know. It's a psychic thing. Humans won't get it.” Eren waved with one hand, sighing and stretching his legs from his perch on the steps. Levi glared at Eren's 'human' talk. “Oh sorry, 'normal people' won't get it.”

“Of course it's a psychic thing.” Eren could practically hear Levi's eyes roll as he muttered. “Listen, even the most well laid plans can go to shit when confronted by a titan. 'You aren't a real scout until you come back from your first mission' is something commonly said here. My squad has gone out time and time again and came back with experience. They survive. But they aren't heartless.”

Eren wanted to raise a brow at that statement, but withheld. Damn you sassy psychic instinct.

“It's not like they felt nothing when they pulled their blades on you. But they know they have a job to do. You can't expect them to regret it.”

Eren could accept that explanation. He really could. But there was still the gaping 'they tried to kill me' hanging over his head, and his mental records were scrambling to reassess their personalities for future safety concerns. As much as he could respect them doing their jobs his personal desire to remain uninjured was stronger.

Could he trust them again? That question came to a burning front in his mind. This squad was charged with being his guards and executioners should he turn against humanity. Levi trusted them. _His human_ had complete faith in them. _His human_ , who had listened to him and didn't hesitate to put himself between his own squad and Eren all because Eren had mentioned a bad feeling-

But could _he_ personally trust them?

He just didn't know. They seemed like decent enough people. But too eager to kill, and that could be a terrible problem. He would need to keep distance and collect more information on all of them so if this happened again, he'll be ready.

“Captain Levi.” Moblit descended the stairs behind Eren with a nervous step, as if he knew he was walking into a conversation. “They're ready for you now.”

“About damn time. Four Eyes has some nerve making us wait this long.” Levi rolled his shoulders as he left his spot against the wall. He jerked his head toward the door with a glance at Eren, beginning to climb the steps with hard strides. “Come on Eren.”

“Yes sir.” Eren shot up to follow with gusto. With a deep breath he internally began to clear his mind. Human thoughts were over for now. He needed to put up a blank face and study the room, observe and collect information. Levi could be included in the gathering but reassessing his safety came first. Honestly, at moments like this he wished he had Armin. Armin was better at this than him.

Eren was still somewhat lost in his mental switching when Hanji called her enthusiastic greetings to the both of them. No one else spoke up. He didn't expect the squads faces to be so somber on the other side. Were they thinking? Guilty? Remorseful? Eren couldn't place their exact expressions and sought out one that may wear their hearts on their sleeves...Petra. Perfect. She had an honest face and he could study her easily.

It was Levi who broke him out of his inner plotting with his usual crass introduction. “What, did you get caught up taking a nice long crap or something?” Eren really began to appreciate the immature style of Levi's humor, he could enjoy this.

“Actually, it was pleasantly quick.” Scratch that. Hanji was better. “ I got caught up explaining to the higher ups about Eren's situation here.” She seemed so giddy it was a little unnerving. Eren pondered maybe supplying Hanji with caffeinated black tea was a bad idea. “Tell me Eren my boy, do you recognize this?”

She plunked an object in a tissue on the table, drawing everyone's eyes down.

“...a teaspoon?” Eren shrugged.

“Exactly. This teaspoon was found clenched in your titan hand. Specifically in the position I'm holding it between my two fingers.” She waved it with a smile and a flourish before continuing. “I don't think it was a coincidence. What do you remember about the incident?”

Eren could feel the squads eyes boring into him. He did a quick check of Petra's face-curiosity and trepidation. So they were cautious of what he had to say? Interesting. “I agitated my hand when I bumped it off the table. I leaned down to pick it up, and then suddenly I had transformed.”

“Were you thinking of anything as you did this?”

“Not really. Just 'I need to get the spoon'.”

Hanji hummed in thought before setting the spoon back in the tissue on the table. “That aids my theory wonderfully.” Her palms spread out on the table, eyes locking with Eren's. “ There must have been a reason you couldn't transform inside the well. 'I must defeat the titans'. 'I must block the cannon shot'. 'I must repair the wall'. These were all thoughts you may have had during previous transformations. What if self harm isn't the only trigger?”

“You're saying there's another?” Levi's head whipped toward Hanji, exasperation tickling his tone. “It's already going to be a pain making sure he doesn't bump a table and turn titan in the mess hall.”

No. Bad human. Minus 5 points.

“This will actually make that less of a chore.” Hanji smiled. “My theory is self harm _plus_ a specific purpose. One that has a strong enough drive to warrant it.”

The words sunk into the room slowly, Eren raising his hand to observe phantom teeth imprints. He rubbed his thumb against the area and took a deep breath. “I can agree that this resembles the cannon incident...but turning into a titan for a spoon? If I can be frank, that's fucked up.”

“It could have been worse.” Hanji crossed her arms and began to mumble in thought. Her first perched under her lips, for what Eren was sure was biting purposes in case of agitation.“Though now my theories on how to exit the titan body are jumbled, and I can't fully test until our next trip outside...” She trailed off into thought for several moments, mumbling nonsensically into her closed fist.

“So we shouldn't press it until then?” Levi uncrossed his arms to shoot an unimpressed expression at her.

Hanji snapped out of her inner monologue and swiveled her head to answer. “It seems so.” The room was silent for a moment, the discussion sinking in to all present. Then Hanji smiled again and directed a proud expression to Eren's direction. “Though really, I'm glad you made your premonition known, Eren. Who knows how bad things could have been if we hadn't been expecting the worst.”

“Eren made a prediction?” Petra's head raised slowly, blinking in confusion. Her teammates also seemed much more interested in the conversation, even if they didn't move. “When?”

“Before you set out for testing. He had a bad feeling and reported it to Levi just in case.” Hanji reached to ruffle Levi's hair and had her hand slapped away. “It's a very good thing he did, we were able to prepare for an accident like this without scrambling like ants.”

“So it wasn't on purpose at all?” Gunter faced Eren, who was still trying to wear a mask of indifference, and swallowed. “You didn't break the rules knowingly?”

Eren wished he could take a step back, now all four of them were staring at him. He took a deep breath and retained a calm face. He needed to let them know he wasn't afraid. Even if he really, really, was. “No, it wasn't. I wouldn't break that rule without a good reason. I have orders.”

He kept his eyes glued to all four, taking in each face, each emotion crossing their eyes, and allowed his mask to crumble into genuine surprise, plus a vocal “What the hell-” when they nodded and proceeded to bite their hands. What were they doing? That part of the hand was very tender, that was why he rubbed it so often, they needed those hands to hold their swords-

Oh wait, if they couldn't hold their swords, they can't kill him...no, _no_ , bad psychic thought process, no, they needed their hands, you stop that right now-

“Ouch, jeez, you do that all the time?” Erd winced, licking a drop of blood off his lip. “How do you not scream? That's gotta hurt.”

Eren could only stand there confused. Why would they injure themselves like this?

“We,” Gunter started, cradling his hurt hand. “We made a mistake with our judgment today. So we decided to pay for it. That's what your people say, right? Get even and something or other?”

“Get even and get over it.” Eren mumbled. “Yeah.”

“It isn't fully worth what we did, but it's something. We all agreed on it. We owe you.”

Aurou shot in, ignoring his own hand despite the fact his teeth marks looked the deepest. Eren had no doubts his days of tongue munching have led to terrible biting strength. He wouldn't voice that out loud though. “But it's still our job to keep you in line, dammit! Don't get mad at us for doing our job! We weren't wrong!” He blew air out his nose angrily before relaxing in his chair again. “So don't get cocky about this.”

Petra chose that moment to take over, sensing Aurou wasn't about to say anything nice. “We're really sorry, Eren. We got scared and acted foolish. You must be so disappointed in us...” Her eyes flew to the floor in shame. “But you also can't do this alone, so...that's why, as a group, we'd like to rely on each other. You can rely on us and we can rely on you. We want you to trust us.”

Trust them? Eren wasn't sure he could do that just now. He kept his hands firm and refused to clench, fought to keep his face calm despite the whirlwind going on inside his head. Trusting them seemed like the last thing he wanted. He couldn't tell if it was logic talking, or basic seer protocol.

On one hand, they were in charge of him. Levi picked them by hand. They were incredibly competent at their jobs, had Levi's full trust, and had much respect throughout the Legion. Erwin gave the approval for them to assist in Eren's overseeing. He trusted Levi and Erwin's judgment.

But on the other hand, their fear made them stupid. He knew in battle there was little time to think. He had found that out in Trost. He had lost his limbs. He had been eaten. He watched friends die like flies. But could he place his faith in humans who lost their sense when frightened?

_No._

He couldn't.

Maybe one day they could earn it back, after he keeps his physical and mental distance from them and reassesses how safe he actually _is_ near them, but for now they had officially been moved from 'trustworthy humans' to 'potential safety hazards' in his mental file cabinet.

Eren's eyes flicked to Levi, who was watching with interest hidden behind a bored face. Of course Levi needed him to trust them. If Eren didn't then the friction in the dynamic would just lead to terrible arguments and a lack of functioning in even basic tasks. And he needed to keep his human happy. He still hadn't told his human that he _was_ his human.

And so Eren made his decision.

“Yeah. Sure, I can do that.”

He would fake it until they actually had earned it back.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are probably so many spelling mistakes I missed but oh well I was supposed to finish this chapter last week-
> 
> I talked it over with Codi and here's the official diagnosis: The SO squad isn't going to gain Eren's trust back immediately. That's gonna take a while. If Eren was a normal psychic he would disregard them completely but he CAN'T-those humans belong to his special human. 
> 
> Another changed factor is how Eren isn't as weighed down afterwards. He's upset, sure, but he'll get them back at some point. He has something else to do. He needs to stare at his human and devise a seduction plan
> 
> Also: I need to make short chapters. This one broke 9 pages. Too mannyyyyy
> 
> The official tumblr tag for this is 'Fic: Eyes of Gold'. Don't be afraid to put things there. It's terribly lonely.


	6. Side: The Heir of the Langnar Seer Line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isn't it odd how after one hundred years, there has never been a war within the walls? Surely humanity would remember something like this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> STOP
> 
> ATTENTION
> 
> THIS IS NOT THE REAL CHAPTER. 
> 
> The real Eyes of Gold: Chapter 6 is on hold due to problems revealed later in this note. If you don't want to read a shitty aside I wrote that will only become handy way later then please disregard the update. If you don't care, by all means continue. 
> 
>  
> 
> THIS. FUCKING. CHAPTER. 
> 
> tbh I had a completely different thing lined up for chapter 6. I did. But it's hard to write because while this story DOES get serious and I have a plot planned, it also has a bunch of comedy and writing comedy is hard my friend. Very hard. So I wrote one of many to come asides that show more about the setting and history. The next planned aside takes place either in the training camp or when Jean was a young boy in Trost. 
> 
> All of them are important, so don't disregard them. 
> 
> In other news I bought a scarf today with psychic symbols on it. It's my 19th birthday so woo for me. It's the only woo I have because my computer charger is BROKEN so I'm using my stepmother's laptop, my online activity will take a scheduled break accordingly until the new charger arrives Tuesday. 
> 
> Anyway: this chapter lacks proper spell check and editing because I'm busy trying to fix up the REAL chapter 6 and wait for my new charger. So yeah. This is gonna suck. I'll fix errors if I spot them but I have no doubts some slipped through. I'm sorry for such a small and shitty update.

_Monday_  
  
 _My time in the Scouting Legion has been filled with hard work and honest living, and I cannot be more grateful for it. My parents worry endlessly over me but I feel I need to do this, for the sake of humanity and the future of our own kind. We need to take back this world or face extinction. _  
  
 _I, Ilse Langnar, am currently the heir of the Langnar seer line, and I can tell our race is going to die within these walls._  
  
 _I was sure we would be fine. We are a tough people. My own family has lived through all sorts of danger and come out still fighting. But I'm noticing we aren't as strong as we think we are. Something is wrong._  
  
 _I keep a journal of my day-to-day happenings, which I keep on my person, and any seer related topics are kept in code so no human may read them. I'm beginning to think code may not be the correct choice. I think our memories may be compromised. We can't trust ourselves to remember._  
  
 _I'm going to hide these entries where no one may find them. I pray if anything happens this information survives._  
  
  
  
 _Wednesday_  
  
 _My worries are stronger. I mentioned before how our memories are worthless, and I have evidence now._  
  
 _When I was younger my father knew a trick. He could make water dance above the bowl it was poured in. I was so amazed, so fascinated, and I have always treasured the memory as a part of a happy childhood. I remember it so clearly I feel as if I relive it as I write these words._  
  
 _Before my deployment began I asked him to perform the trick again. He put his hands over the bowl, then became concerned. He didn't remember how._  
  
 _I asked my mother, and she didn't remember how either. We all remember the trick, but the memory of how it was performed escapes us. I'm trying desperately to remember and I just can't, my head hurts as the fuzzy edges appear. _  
  
 _What is happening?_  
  
  
  
 _  
_

 

 

 

 

  
_Saturday_

_I need to write this down in case I forget more. I'm beginning to write down everything. More memories are gone. People are gone. Things are vanishing._

_Remember, Ilse. Remember._

_Remember the others. The others who could bend reality like you can, remember how they left._

_Remember that the others, the ones who weren't human, found a way to leave this world when the titans came. They left so they could be safe. Live openly. They left behind the way to follow them, if we so chose, and that way is..._

_Dammit Ilse, REMEMBER_

_Remember the seer who lived in the next district. He found a way to perform a ritual everyone has forgotten about. He projected himself out of his body._

_He's gone now. His house is empty. No one remembers he ever lived._

_Remember_

 

 

 

_Monday_

_I have decided not to tell the Commander what I am. I fear for my safety. The MP have more and more of us within their grasp, they're foolish for being lured in with promises of riches and safety. Can't they see how dangerous it is for so many of us to be close together?_

_I will use my eyes to benefit the Legion, but I will not reveal myself._

 

 

 

_Wednesday_

_The black eyed man came today._

_Do not touch him. He feels dark. So dark. Everything feels hopeless and dead around him. If you touch him you will die._

_He smiled at my fear._

 

 

 

_Friday_

_The black eyed man came again. This time a woman was with him. Her skin was darker than mine, but her hair was as yellow as the sun. I don't think she's human. Is she one of the others? Does she know what happened?_

_I asked them about my memories._

_The black eyed man told me I am right. My memories can't be trusted._

_The woman asked him strange questions. “Is she the one who will begin the next phase?”_

_Phase? Is there a plan to all of this? Is our imprisonment within the walls a game?_

_The man told her no._

_They vanished in the wind before I could protest._

_Only feathers were left behind._

 

 

 

_Sunday_

_I'm searching deeper and deeper into our history._

_I know when the titans appeared, the others found a way to leave this world. Few remained. The seers who felt entitled to this world, like my family, kept a firm hold. The mediums felt they needed to help with the massive loss of life happening around them decided to sacrifice their chance at leaving. I do not know who else stayed. It could be more with a third eye like myself, or it could be some with even more power._

_I know the black eyed man is not human in any way. His skin is fake. He regenerates like a titan. I shot him, I shot him so many times but he only rebuilt himself and laughed._

_I know his servants are more human. They have more emotion. The woman was here during the last visit, and she apologized for her master scaring me._

_I know seers who learn more of the past are vanishing. I know if they do not vanish, they lose memories. I cannot remember anything from my favorite childhood book. The one with the writing in a strange language my parents insisted our people knew. I remember knowing how to read it, but I do not remember the language at all...or what the book was about. I don't think it was a storybook._

_I feel as if the Fates are merely pulling me like a doll now._

 

 

 

_Monday_

_My personal journal is always open now. I record everything. I can't risk losing what I know._

_The black eyed man tells me I'm smart for doing so. I keep asking questions but he insists he can't get involved in human lives. Plus, he hates me._

_It isn't personal though. He hates all seers. I guess I can see why, it's logical._

_Considering the black eyed man is death, he must hate the beings who tug at fate's strings to change lives._

 

 

 

_Wednesday_

_My daily journal has become so heavy with words. The 34 th Expedition is coming soon, I hope I can find the time to write while I am away. I keep these entries separate, and hidden in a spot no one would dare to look. I change the hiding spot often enough that if anyone finds them, they will not find them again. _

_In the midst of my worries, I remember the stories of my people. I feel like the boy who flew too close to the sun. If I find out what is truly happening, I feel like the wax in my wings will melt and I will crash to the Earth to die. The foolishness of the inventor's son runs through my veins._

_I went deeper into the walls this week on under the Commander's order. Preparations for this expedition are useful. I was able to dig deeper into the situation._

_The seers in Sina know more than I do. They remember things. They tell me the King knows of us and what we do. This terrifies me. Humans abuse power like this._

 

 

 

 

_Friday_

_The black eyed man is becoming more amused with me. He appears just to laugh. Today I finally learned his name._

_He appeared as a child today. His face was too innocent for the evil in his eyes. He laughed anyway as I did the shopping for my squad. We've reached a point where I can shoot back taunts without the fear showing._

_Inside, I'm still terrified of his touch. If his skin makes contact with mine I would surely lose myself. I hope if that happens someone puts me out of my misery._

_He tells me that my people will continue to live. I am not sure if I'm soothed by those words or scared. He calls us roaches, that he's attempted to kill us before but we crawl out of the wreckage twice as annoyingly persistent. He tells me how much he hates us but I believe it is nothing more than petty rivalry._

_We talked more, him taunting me and calling me terrible names, and myself shooting them back with annoyance. He at least admits I have noble goals. He says that is an admirable trait in my people._

 

 

 

 

_Tuesday_

_do not trust him do not trust him do not trust him **do not trust him**_

 

 

_Wednesday_

_His eyes are everywhere._

_The woman with the blonde hair was here today. Her eyes are the color of blood. She killed the Lieutenant with no emotion, no emotion at all. The angel of mercy, she calls herself._

_The angels of death are watching us all, remember remember remember_

 

 

 

_Friday_

_In the olden days of seers, the humans erected temples in our honor and paid bags of gold for our predictions. I wonder if I would be luckier to be born in those days._

_The Underground holds a statue of the angels and I have never been more terrified. I know their ways now. They all serve the black eyed man._

_Humans are mere pawns to him. Seers and mediums included. I feel so much regret now for taunting mediums in my life, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. We are all powerless in this world, with that man watching us all. His eyes are in every shadow._

 

 

 

_Sunday_

_T_ _he expedition is tomorrow. When we return I will continue my investigation. What does the king want with information on seers? What is the black eyed man planning? Why are my memories missing? Why...?_

_I will continue to record everything in my personal notebook. The code within should be easy to unlock by my family in case anything happens. Hidden inside are the details of everything that has happened since I began looking into this. The black eyed man's name, his servants, their secrets, and what the other seers in Sina have told me. All hidden within normal notes about my day and my thoughts._

_My squad calls me crazy now. I write everything down. I can't help it, I can't tell them about what is really happening. about how my people are dying and somehow we forget our own culture._

_It isn't just us though. The humans forget too. After all these years within the walls, one of my contacts brought up something interesting. Elijah Crane, researcher. Nice man. "Humans are prone to violence and disagreement in the worst of times. It is a wonder we have never had a revolution, despite the way the government has so many faults."_

_I think_ _the humans may be missing memories too._

_Tomorrow, after the expedition, I will come back to this. I will come back to these notes, hidden within the walls of my room, and I will unlock these secrets. I want to kill the titans, I do so very much, but things aren't adding up anymore._

_I sign off on the hope that I will receive my answers soon._

 

 

 

**_You won't, dear. But I appreciate the effort. I'll hold on to these notes for you._ **

**_-Azrael_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE comment and review. I love getting messages and interacting with you all. And don't forget I track the 'fic: Eyes of Gold' tag on tumblr, where you can find me at 'shingeki-no-unicorns'
> 
> Someone already edited a nice graphic in that tag, go look!


	7. Smile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How many times have we played this game before? Enough times to have a psychic body count, it seems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate this chapter I hate it so much why does it take so much trouble to type out something so simple GOD
> 
> The more I work on this fic the more I find myself going deeper and deeper into the myth arc, so much so I actually need to write a note saying "REMEMBER THIS SERIES IS ABOUT TITANS" and tape it to my computer. 
> 
> I also keep thinking of new things for Jean, despite the fact I wanted to write about Eren when I started this. It might end up being a dual protag story this way. Either way I cling to my amazing psychic scarf for inspiration. But alas, this chapter is shorter than average due to the fact I've rewritten it twice and I still can't make it look good. Blegh. Hopefully the next one will do better.

_Notes from the desk of Hanji Zoe: Psychics_

 

_Subject: Mediums_

_I asked Eren what he meant by his comment in our last private conversation. Apparently all the stories are true (things like monsters and unicorns to be seen; I hope they're also real). Mediums are a race of human gifted with a second sight, much like Eren; only instead of seeing through time, they see death. They see those who wouldn't or couldn't leave this plane of existence when they died, and their job is to act as guides to aid them and to provide support to living loved ones. Nature's grief counselors. I'm considering finding one for Legion use to keep soldier depression levels down._

_Eren didn't seem to speak of them fondly. Most of his comments were rather spiteful._

“ _They're bleeding hearts who believe any sob story you throw their way. Their gift is next to useless anyway; most spirits people contact are angry and bend the truth to fit themselves, so their word isn't worth anything. That's what I hear.”_

_I asked if he knew one personally. He replied he did._

“ _He's terrible at the job, by the way. He refuses to use his sight, and that's even worse than if he was. Now he's just wasting his potential by pretending he's normal. It'll blow up in his face one day.” I asked for a name, but Eren refused. “I may not like the guy but you don't out people like that. Doing that to another seer in the wrong place could get us killed. That would be like...like me dropping the Hale name up north. Boom. Instant danger.”_

_I'm interested in this, but I'll ask Eren about that later. Hopefully I can fill a new notebook up with seer history before the expedition. I continued questioning Eren about mediums and learned quite a bit._

_They function like seers in the sense that the gift is passed through blood. Even if the medium marries a human, their gift automatically passes down to the offspring, of which there can be many since mediums aren't inclined to have small families. But mediums also can come across the sight without a bloodline._

_Eren doesn't know how, but supposedly if you have a specific kind of brush with death, you return with the ability to see what no one else can. Their children don't inherit the gift; only that person has it. And they're trapped with it. They don't even have the advantage of instinct or a parent mentor, so they most likely flail around not knowing what to do._

_They're the only ones who can have their sight thrust upon them. Eren has never heard of any person gaining psychic abilities after an accident. Only of normal psychics who develop their first visions around age seven, or children who mysteriously lack the gift despite having a seer parent._

_If mediums exist, I can only wonder what else may be lurking within the walls. I did ask Eren if he knew of any other amazing beings._

_He seemed despondent before muttering, “I don't know. When the walls came up, our culture all but vanished. I wouldn't be surprised if everyone else was dead.”_

 

* * *

 

Erwin had spent the better part of his week running his mind in two directions at once. On one hand he was perfecting his formation strategy, running the figures and statistics for scenarios that could take place outside the wall, figuring out where to put whom and who needed to oversee what. The other hand was busy grasping at strings over what to do with the Legion's newest psychic. 

The last psychic Erwin clearly remembered had been a member of the Legion when he was a cadet. Shadis had been in charge then, he knew that much, and the psychic worked himself ragged trying to use his eyes to aid humanity. Normal soldiers weren't allowed around him. Erwin only remembered sparing glances at the man. He remembered tired bags under each eye, a distant stare as if the humans around him didn't exist. He remembered mumbling and a book, containing loose pages barely held in, clutched tightly in trembling hands, and he remembered how any attempt to touch him resulted in being hit. Keith personally oversaw him, and the psychic had practically become second in command without earning the title. 

The confusing thing about the entire situation was how that same psychic suddenly dropped in the field one day. Erwin hadn't witnessed the incident, but the official report stated he dropped to the grass, screaming, before going limp. His body was recovered but pronounced brain-dead, and the psychic died within a week of being checked into the hospital. The official report helped with nothing. 

He had gathered copies of the damn thing but they all said the same thing. Sudden seizure then slow starvation in the hospital. He even went and saw Keith personally to ask before he embarked back to the training camps. He wasn't much of a help, either. He gave Erwin the same information as the reports, saying the psychic dropped, screaming, eyes ablaze to an intensity it seemed as if he had burned them out of his skull. It happened so quickly he barely had time to react. 

He did at least pass on a warning. “Don't believe every rumor you hear.”

And that was how Erwin spent the remainder of his time. Gathering information on any mythology involving psychics, be it from Rose or Sina, and investigating deeper into the Legion records. It seemed the only other psychic he could find in recent history served an even shorter term than the previous. Three months. It was hard enough collecting that much since the existence of psychics was still very much denied in proper society, so any official records had to find loopholes to give any special treatment or titles to the few who dared come forward. He could only pinpoint who had a gift by the way their paperwork was handled and their reports worded. 

All in all, the only thing he had were rumors. 

The painstaking process of going through all of it and determining what might or might not be true was giving him a headache the size of the Colossal titan, but he persevered. How was it there could be so many different theories for how a single group of people functioned? One report would say one thing, one report said another, and it all led to dead ends that only gave more questions. 

At the point he currently stood he knew more about titans than he did about psychics. At least titans weren't subject to rumor. There were no papers about titans telling him maintaining eye contact would melt his brain or making one angry would crack windows. (Though they cracked windows anyway; their footsteps did nothing to aid building foundations, and property damage didn't require them stepping on your home.)

But he wouldn't be fazed by the workload. He had faced heavier challenges with ease. All he could do given the lack of credibility was collect notes of interest, then scribble down what he deemed important and ask Hanji to test Eren on the subject the next chance he got. Surely they could filter out some of the more ridiculous claims before the next week was over. 

Some of these notes made no sense, anyway. At least not in any logical point of view. 

Sighing, Erwin rubbed between his eyes as he pushed away yet another report of a psychic using mind control to commit crime. If Eren could control minds, he would have done it by now. Maybe make Levi punch himself silly after kicking him in court. He was fifteen; it was a credible thought. 

“Any luck?” Mike, who had come by to deliver a drink but stayed for reasons unknown, scanned over the papers and books, a distasteful expression crossing his features. He gave a test sniff before recoiling. “By the way, one of these has mildew.” 

“Probably the early logs.” Erwin jerked his pen in the direction of the thick red tome, still scanning over a booklet procured from Sina about the legends of those with a third eye. He knew psychics summoning demons from hell was definitely farfetched, but he couldn't toss the book away and miss anything. “There was significant water damage on the cover. The storage facility needs to be rebuilt at some point. And no, no luck.” 

“I never understood the fascination with oracles.” Mike flipped through an old volume bearing loving damage, eyes trailing over intricate details in each illustration. “I figured knowing your future was more of a burden than anything.”

“It could be.” Erwin threw the booklet down before picking up a file, opening it to find records concerning the older psychic from before his time in enlistment. “I imagine they see things that would drive normal men mad.” 

“Others always thought it was a survival cheat. They could save themselves and run.”

“Potentially. But seeing their comrades die would surely drive them to a level of mental ruin above human comprehension.” Erwin tapped his pen against the desk, biting the inside of his lip. “Truly someone who can withstand such things should be feared.”

“And here we are using one as a weapon.” Mike gave an empty chuckle. 

“It isn't every day you come across a psychic who can become a titan.” Erwin flipped through the records without sparing a glance. Medical reports, training assessment, promotions—nothing of real aid to be found. 

“True.” Mike stroked his chin thoughtfully. “And apparently it isn't every day one of them actually joins the Scouting Legion.” 

“I had hoped records of the few who did would be detailed,” Erwin flatly delivered. “It honestly seems a bit shameful no one used this to the full opportu—” He paused. 

Mike took notice of the sudden freeze. “Erwin? What is it?” 

Erwin leaned closer, examining the words on the page. The death certificate. The paper was aged terribly, edges worn, but the ink clearly spelled outthe same words he had read on a much newer file.

_Subject collapsed in convulsions, pronounced brain-dead upon arrival in medical center. Official COD is starvation in the hospital four days later._

“...this can't be right.” Erwin shuffled the papers on his desk, grabbing for the newer report to compare wording. “Mike, grab the witness reports from these soldiers’ files.” 

Mike didn't grumble about the lack of a “please,” instead silently handing over the requested papers from the mess on the desk. “Something interesting?” 

“Something disturbing.” Erwin frowned, picking up the witness statements. 

_( **Subject** ) fell, according to cadet ( **name omitted** ), clutching his skull and screaming as he twitched in the grass. ( **Name omitted** ) also makes claims of ( **subject** )'s eyes glowing a golden color, but these claims are not credible. _

The same as Shadis said it was. Erwin glanced over to the older paper, frown deepening heavily. 

_According to ( **name omitted** ), ( **subject** ) had been in the mess hall of Legion headquarters having a conversation after meal hours. A scream was heard and when ( **name omitted** ) arrived, ( **subject** ) was on the floor in convulsions. There was no conversational partner to be found. Due to claims of glowing eyes and cries of “angels,” ( **name omitted** )'s testimony is withdrawn from the investigation but is being submitted for psychological evaluation. _

“...Erwin? You have the scary face again.” Mike lightly cocked a brow, eyeing his superior warily. “Are you going to say anything?”

Erwin did not hear a word, reaching to open the mildew infested log book and searching for a particular spot he knew he had seen last time he opened the damn thing—

His face fully fell when he reached it. Hidden among the margins, in some of the earliest records for the Scouting Legion, was a piece of graffiti that he had ignored. Hell, anyone would ignore it. But looking now, it was jotted down between names listed in these reports, between names all connected to the dead psychic. 

One eye, lines representing illumination, followed by an angry scrawl. The word  _angels_ caught his eye and his muscles tensed in thought.

Erwin breathed, shutting his eyes for a moment before setting to work and finishing the list of tests for Eren. “Mike, I need you to give an order to Hanji for me.” 

“Sure.” Mike was still wary of Erwin's sudden demeanor change, but straightened up. “What is it?”

“I want Eren to undergo a psychological evaluation. After that, I want you to collect any cadets who knew Eren in training and bring them to me.” Erwin's pen was flying faster and faster, underlining and crossing out. Mike knew nothing would take his attention now for at least several hours, so he withheld the question of exactly how many cadets at a time he should bring. “The two from his trial especially. Today they should be undergoing physical testing with the new medical staff.”

“Yes sir. Any other requests?” 

“Find me more mythology books. This time on deities.” 

 

* * *

 

Levi knew his day was going to be very, very odd when he woke up to find the hallway outside his room scrubbed spotless. He knew he hadn't done it. He had cleaned that floor when he arrived, he remembered that, but within a day it was filthy from boots and dust and what he was  _sure_ was a goddamn rat hiding in the walls. So unless he had started cleaning in his sleep, which was unlikely since his insomniac ass only managed three hours on a regular basis, someone else must have managed to clean the entire floor without him hearing it. 

But since it was a  _clean_ area that he didn't have to do  _himself_ , he couldn't summon enough fucks within himself to worry about it. Don't look a gift horse in the mouth and all. 

His morning only seemed to get creepily better from there. Dressed for the day, Levi made his rounds for the morning. He entered the stables only to find the horses already tended to, fresh hay sitting in each stall and their coats shining from a fresh brushing. 

The steps were already swept. 

Gear cleaned and ready for use.

Gas tanks filled. 

This was when Levi began summoning one, exactly one, small semblance of a fuck. Who in their right mind would go out of their way like this? Was it Petra? Petra had tried doing something like this when she was a cadet, but she knew better now. She was a grown ass woman and had her own shit to take care of—

Levi almost wanted to be surprised to find Eren already out of his room, but really all he did was sigh at the empty (but perfectly remade) bed and grumble that he wasn't about to play hide-and-fucking-go-seek with a fifteen year old. 

“Captain?” Moblit's head ducked in from the doorway, blinking in surprise. 

“Do you know where the hell Eren went?” Levi kept his eyes glued to the furniture, noting that Eren's room had miraculously reached the level of clean his floor had. Had his dresser been waxed? Damn, that shine looked nice. 

“He's in the showers,” Moblit answered. “He, uh… He wanted me to tell you before you came looking. I'm sorry I didn't get to you in time.” 

“No harm done. But the brat needs to know he isn't allowed to leave his room without me.” He sighed, beginning his journey back up the stairs before pausing. “Wait, you were on meal duty today. You should be in the kitchen.” 

Moblit shrugged nervously, a small blush arising. “Actually, Eren took over for me. He went to shower after he finished breakfast.” 

Eren made breakfast? Eren could  _cook_? 

Eren  _got up on his own_ without Levi actually _needing to kick his ass out of bed?_

He was dangerously close to being angry at wasting his mornings dragging a sleepy Eren up the stairs when he actually laid eyes on what the psychic had done. Then all thoughts in his head became one large cluster of “good fucking  _god_ ”and an innate urge to begin weeping tears of joy, which he would have done if he lacked self-control. Or if he thought his tear ducts actually worked. 

Military meals were very commonly disgusting mush that tasted heavily of yeast due to storage. A simple broth-y mixture with potato chunks or cheap chicken bits and bread. Things like salt or sugar cost more money than they could spend. The Scouting Legion, having the lowest wages in the military, had a shit food budget and anything tasty they purchased was kept locked up and only used for special occasions. Holidays were the only time of year their food resembled a home cooked meal. Levi had gotten used to this quickly after joining. He hadn't had the best experience with food anyway; he took what he needed and only ever cared that it was  _edible._ He had choked down things like dog meat before for the sake of making sure he didn't keel over from starvation. 

What he was looking at now was probably the greatest spread of food he'd seen since the fat pig dinner parties the elite threw so they could gossip and drink while Erwin pilfered for expedition donations. 

One part of him was furious Eren had gone into the food storage and taken so much, but the other simply didn't care because it looked so  _delicious_. Hotcakes, strips of meat, toast—oh, sweet Sina, there was  _sausage_ —jams, honey, eggs in at least three different varieties, and a pitcher of some refreshing smelling drink sitting in the middle of it all. Was that citrus? It smelled like citrus. Good lord. 

“Oh, my. He used a bit much,” Moblit murmured. “I didn't tell him the rules about food conservation—” 

Levi held up one hand to silence him. He didn't bother turning around since the bacon was calling his name in a very seductive manner. “Well, it's too late to take it back. Better to eat than waste.” Which was his bold faced excuse to eat the entire spread without Erwin chewing him out for it. He and his huge eyebrows could go complain to someone who cared. “Eren can pay for it with extra chores.” 

And by extra chores, he meant working the kid ragged then making him cook again. He wasn't letting anyone else touch the kitchen. Not after this. Especially not after seeing a kettle of black tea waiting by his chair. 

His squad seemed to share the sentiment when they finally arrived, Levi already halfway through a plate of everything he could fit on it. And then some. He still had a hand on the meat plate. 

“...who made all of this?” Petra didn't seem to find her words until she had tasted the eggs, chewing with a wobbling jaw. “Was it Moblit? He's never done this before.” 

Levi had to swallow an impressive amount of food before he could answer. He didn't even know he could fit that much inside without puffing his cheeks like a goddamn chipmunk. “Eren.” 

“Eren?” Erd had fashioned some kind of breakfast sandwich out of biscuits and bacon strips and was perched to bite at least half of it in one go. “You're saying he did this?” 

“Put him on meal duty forever.” Levi was actually a little concerned at how close Aurou was to shedding a tear. Either that or he was having a small seizure in the form of facial ticks. “We're ruined. We can't go back to shit now.”

“He still used too much valuable food. Today he'll be running drills as punishment. Oversee that, Gunter.” Gunter nodded halfheartedly, shoving a mixture of meat and eggs in his mouth at rapid speed. Levi didn't blame him. He couldn't take his own order seriously when some deep, dark part of his brain was still whispering  _“thank you oh god thank you.”_ Maybe it was his long-lost sense of taste. He could have sworn it had died when he was a child drinking sewer water for survival. 

He was a grown man; he needed to stop acting so sappy over food. 

...after this next bite. 

Eren himself didn't appear until they had eaten nearly everything. He hummed as he strolled in, taking the seat nearest Levi, smiling in a calm manner as he overlooked the damage done to the table. He seemed overly pleased at the devastation caused by hungry stomachs. 

Levi had opened his mouth to berate Eren's use of expensive ingredients, but then the smell of soap hit him like a wall. Had the brat actually been showering all this time? The closer he looked, the more he could see—Eren's skin was at its clearest since they met. Scrubbed free of any trace of dirt. His uniform was pressed and neat. Levi was also sure his shirt had become a complete shade lighter. 

Eren continued smiling on, drinking in Levi’s confusion like it was precious. “Something the matter, sir?”

Levi frowned, wiping any trace of emotion from his face. “Yeah. You used up half the fucking storehouse. Think next time; we can't afford to indulge like this.” 

“My apologies.” Eren gently folded his hands on the table, nodding before taking a biscuit for himself. “I'll try to do better.”

Now the entire table was confused. This didn't mean they stopped chewing, but they were definitely confused and staring. 

“You'll run drills as punishment today.” Levi at least hoped to wipe the smile off his face.

“Yes sir.” No such luck. Eren was still far too calm to be considered normal. It was actually a tad bit creepy. “I actually figured you might take offense to it, so I already did some other chores.” 

If Levi hadn't spent every moment since childhood perfecting his poker face, he might have dropped his cup. Suddenly the clean hallway and mysteriously completed chores all rushed back and his fantastic morning made sense. What didn't make sense was  _why_ Eren was doing it. 

Eren's calm smile returned, and subtly, Levi could feel everyone else at the table growing more and more creeped out. Or maybe it was just him. Why the hell was Eren staring like that? 

Hanji's arrival kept her track record for never reading the mood. “Hey, guys! I heard you had some amazing eats over here, and I had to—” She paused when no one looked at her, fixing her eyes on the table and smothering a smile. “Hey, Levi, how come Eren's holding your hand like that?” 

Eren's smile only brightened when Levi’s hand jerked away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't feel afraid to leave a message! I'll take compliments, hate, questions, random variances of the word 'bacon'-anything will do, really. I love interacting with you all. 
> 
> Don't forget to hit me up on tumblr at shingeki-no-unicorns, and remember I track the tag 'fic: Eyes of Gold'!


	8. Reunion pt 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The real question is when will anyone actually tell Levi he's a special human now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You probably won't take a word of this seriously knowing I wrote most of it to party anthem songs from FEMM's new album. 
> 
> I'm also super duper triple sorry for my horrible update schedule and bouncing around with the plot. But just know if I try to put myself on a schedule I'll drop this fic faster than a hot potato. I have no work ethic when deadlines are hovering. My sincerest apologies. I'm also super dumb for daring to post this NOW because with Homestuck coming back I'm going to be swarming in trolls for at least a week with a good chunk of tumblr. 
> 
> Ah well. 
> 
> Big thanks to all readers, reviewers, commentators, and most of all my lovely wife Codi, who edits these chapters even when busy with college homework. She's the reason this fic has a mythos after all.

_Notes from the desk of Hanji Zoe: Psychics_

_Subject: Psych Eval._

 

_I truly wanted to ask Eren more about his culture and history today. From small bits in his conversations I feel like he could tell us the most fascinating things! He already has at least once; he has a very interesting way of cursing. “Fates be damned” feels like it may have a story behind it. Levi isn't amused but I think he's just cranky thanks to Eren's new behavior._

  _Which leads us to today's first entry. Erwin sent a note (that Eren is not supposed to see) calling for Eren to be psychoanalyzed. Full psychological profile and notes on behavior. Eren is busy running drills so today I've been drafting what I already know before I conduct a proper interview. Being a psychic means Eren's brain functions fundamentally different from the rest of us and it's up to me to figure out which differences are actually dangerous. Erwin also added an extra list of things to look into concerning the extent of Eren's powers. I feel like he's been reading fantasy serials from some of the things on it._

_If he has, I hope he saved the subscription. I love those!_

_The biggest concern for today is Eren's sudden “creepy as shit attitude” (Levi's words). I think it's funny, personally, that Eren would go to such lengths to suck up to his superior. But it isn't surprising. From what Eren's told me it's natural for psychics to try to secure themselves. Bribery and brown-nosing doesn't seem too farfetched._

_Though the staring and hand holding don't seem like either. It isn't Eren's usual curious stare, either. It's deep. Like he's memorizing everything his eyes can process. The hand thing seems like a cat rubbing itself on a person to mark the scent; at least three times while we sorted out the schedule at the breakfast table Eren would begin feeling Levi's hand. He would run his fingers over every inch, examine all the hidden spots, play with his fingers…_

_Levi also kicked him out of his chair the third time, as he had smacked Eren's hand the first two. I don't think Eren stopped smiling._

_Really if I didn't know any better, I'd say Eren might have a—_

…

_I'm going to have so much fun putting that down in the psych report. This will either end hilariously or in a disaster that rivals the time I tried to throw Levi a birthday party._

_I probably should prioritize the psych report and Erwin's requests, though, so I'll save any Levi-related questions for after dinner. Eren might love to gossip over tea anyway. Today I'll pull him aside and begin questioning when Gunter finally lets him rest._

_Erwin's requests that I'll try to cover immediately:_

 

  * _The extent of a vision and the usual duration_
  * _Strength of abilities at current age_
  * _Do psychics have any power outside their visions? If so, elaborate._
  * _Religion? Faith? How spiritual are they?_
  * _Is there anything that could potentially harm them using their abilities?_
  * _Do they have counterparts, and if so, please fill out everything you can._
  * _Brief history of psychics within the walls_
  * _Is there anything known of them BEFORE the walls?_



 

_He went on to also ask for experiments concerning Eren's accuracy and emotional response to certain visions. I'll try to do what I can but fitting Eren's titan shifting tests with psychic tests will take time. I can only hope that by the time Eren is in the field we have enough done to somewhat know what we're working with._

 

_In the meantime, all I have is this notebook._

 

* * *

Even though the ache of 3DMG drills was setting into his bones, Eren still couldn't keep down the smile glued to his face. Gunter occasionally called out for him to shape up or to adjust his position; he would do so and he would run the drill while his mind wandered back to the subject he had been going crazy over. 

His human. 

He knew he was in a tougher situation than his mother was when she met her human. And she actually had taken her time before deciding. But surely there was a lesson he could take from family experiences to help him here. 

...actually, no, there wasn't. His mother might have been an absolute terror when she was a teenager, but she had been smarter when it came to this subject. He could almost hear her voice telling him he was rushing and diving into something dangerous. She had taken a safer route. 

Step 1: Find doctor to take clients to when you get rough. 

Step 2: Make this doctor your regular. 

Step 3: Decide the smart doctor who doesn't ask questions is your human, and tell him to get cracking on the wedding. 

There was more detail to the story, but that was the overall process. She had probably hoped Eren would choose Armin or Mikasa, or some other safe human in Shinganshina that didn't run the risk of leading him to certain death. But that could have just been the mother in her talking. Maybe the inner psychic telling her someone needed to hold down the family territory. Shinganshina had belonged to his family since his great grandfather fought off the Stevens family in that duel—

“Eren, you're leaning to the left!” 

Eren nodded, adjusting himself before starting the drill over. Where was he again? Right. Mom. Human. 

Considering his mother wasn't around to judge his choice in human (then proceed to drown the human in motherly affection considering this wasn't a choice he could or would take back), he supposed he'd have to face Mikasa instead. That thought was terrifying enough that he wavered mid-drill and needed to take a moment to breathe. Good  _lord_ ,Mikasa would not react well. 

Either a class five apocalypse or a bomb big enough to destroy the base would probably ensue. Eren had money on the first option. 

Gunter snapped him out of his horror scenario from his vantage point to the side. “Eren, get moving!” 

Shaking his head, Eren began once again. How  _was_  he going to go about that? First off, he needed to meet with Mikasa and Armin in person, find the privacy to talk, collect hair samples again for his notebook, somehow explain the scary man who beat him senseless in court was now the human he prized above all others—

Yeah. This wasn't going to end well.

Eren straightened up and threw himself harder into the exercise. He needed to pick a happier topic to think about. Maybe the next phase of “Seduce the Human.” Phase One—shower Levi in gifts and favors—had commenced that morning and was going off without a hitch. Everyone was pleased by the breakfast he slaved over and judging by the amount of food missing from Levi's end of the table, Levi was secretly the most appreciative of all. 

The rest of the squad was also in a happier mood, which served Eren well in the sense they wouldn't notice he was avoiding getting too close to them. He had maintained a respectable distance of four feet from them all and no one said a word. 

Levi's one complaint had been his use of the more expensive food items, so he needed to rework that snag. Maybe he could contact Sasha and ask for recipes using low price ingredients. She undoubtedly owed him a few favors from training since she had decided to be his most frequent client. But first would be getting a message to the Garrison, if that was what branch she joined… No, no, she was definitely in the Military Police. Sina had food beyond most people's wildest dreams. If that was the case, he could ask her to send some down, maybe repay her with promises of more visions. She was superstitious enough to trust the word of a psychic, so he could definitely use that. 

Marco, too. He was too kind at the best of times and would probably have no objections sending souvenirs down for an old friend. Tea seemed the right choice. Levi loved black tea, and Eren had seen him drinking it at nearly every meal. Maybe Marco could buy some of the flavored teas that the lower class rarely ever got to drink, or some milk tea—if Levi liked his tea strong, maybe green tea. Eren knew green tea was a favorite amongst the rich. Clients of his mother would leave bags of it as payment. Eren might send a gift back as encouragement so he wasn't completely extorting a human he rather enjoyed being around. 

Jean…

If his plans worked out, Eren would send Jean an intricately detailed card with illustrations showing how Eren had gotten lucky and was on cloud nine. 

Perfect. 

“Eren, pull out! We're heading back in!” Gunter tapped his wrist to signal “time's up.”

“Already?” Eren went slack, still partly dangling from a tree he intended to launch from, staring up at the older soldier upside down. 

“Erwin called a meeting. You have to come along since Levi will be there.” 

Eren sighed, nodding out a “yes sir” as he up-righted himself. A meeting? Must be important if he was actually being taken to the main base. But if it was important, shouldn't Erwin have him present? Eren had offered up his services, and clients always took advantage of that. Seers were extremely helpful to include in these sorts of things. Unless Erwin had never learned how to use someone like Eren. He probably hadn't, actually. Eren realized he would probably have to explain seer/client relations at some point. In the meantime, he would bite his tongue. Eren didn't exactly know how to act in a meeting anyway. 

That probably meant he should learn sometime soon. Damn. At some point he needed to find another seer and pick up where his mother had left off teaching-wise.

“Did the Commander say what this meeting was about?” Eren kept his respectable four feet from Gunter as they put their gear away, keeping his eyes subtly focused on Gunter's movements. 

“No. Might just be expedition stuff. Could be serious stuff.” Gunter half-shrugged, barely sparing Eren a glance. “If it's important for us to know, then the Captain will tell us.” 

Eren interpreted that as “none of your business” and decided not to comment. Deep down he could feel himself grow offended at the secrecy, as a good seer should, but he bit that down as much as he could. He needed to trust the Commander. If he was going to control himself and be human enough to overpower the titans, he needed to have full faith and loyalty in Erwin Smith. 

Even if his manner of handling a seer was that of a complete amateur. 

 

* * *

 

“You can't be serious.” 

This was not the first time Armin had uttered the phrase, and it certainly would not be the last. In fact he had said this phrase verbatim so many times it was impossible to keep count. This was the kind of life you led when your closest friend was a psychic. 

He had said it when eight-year-old Eren stated he would try to climb the wall and jump over. 

He had said it when ten-year-old Mikasa insisted on fighting five boys at once for the high crime of snickering at him. 

He had said it in training when Eren's clothes were “stolen” (a story he and Mikasa were convinced was absolutely fake) and he did morning drills shamelessly in his underwear. 

In short, Armin said it a lot, and each time was steadily more ridiculous than the last. By the time his next birthday rolled around, he was sure it would involve Eren, a stupid idea, gratuitous amounts of violence, and the utter destruction of at least half of Wall Rose. Deep down he knew he was probably right.

Why was he uttering this cursed phrase? This was the result of a normal day becoming good, then giving him a terrible headache that would send the Colossal titan to its incredibly thick knees. 

His day actually had started off normal. Their morning was filled with more instructions, meeting superiors, even more instructions, and a medical checkup. All before lunch. Really, the only thing out of place had been the medical examiner—a smiling man named Karin who told jokes more than he dispensed medical advice—suddenly acting like he had swallowed a lemon when it was Ymir's turn for a checkup. 

Granted, “normal” at this point was a loose term. Since Trost, “normal” had become one of those words that didn't seem to make sense anymore. Recruits would verge on having panic attacks. Jean was talking to himself at increasing intervals. Mikasa was growing steadily more angry and paranoid without Eren around. Eren himself was now the world’s first and hopefully  _only_  psychic who could become a fifteen meter monster. 

So between his teammates slowly breaking down and having no contact with the only person who could see if things would be okay, Armin considered “normal” to be “any day we aren't fighting anything.” At this point, he only really kept the word for a small slice of stability. 

Which was promptly ruined that evening when Eren found them outside the stables. Which shouldn't have surprised him at all, but Eren had always been good at outdoing all expectations above and beyond. 

Maybe Armin had just been blindsided by the fact he was seeing and touching his best friend after days of separation, wondering if he was okay after everything that had happened. 

“Eren, are you okay? They haven't done anything to you, right? No experiments or torture?” Mikasa almost sounded fragile with the way she touched Eren's hand, letting his eyes blink golden, and a relaxed smile came over Eren’s face. Days of anxiety and muddled emotions slowly melted away with the return of his small circle. “That short man went too far. I'll make sure he pays.” 

Eren looked confused but lifted Mikasa's hand to rub the skin distractedly. “You mean Captain Levi?” He shook his head and moved to grab Armin's hand. “I'm so glad to see you. I have a lot to talk to you about, and I also need your hair.” He paused for a moment to think. “And a vial of your blood. Preferably by tonight.” 

“We'll give them as soon as we can,” Armin assured the seer. One factor weighing in his mind that week was Eren not having his and Mikasa's hair, and he would be glad to fix it. Eren must have panicked so badly when he realized his only connections to his friends were gone. “Did you get more parchment?” 

“Better. I have a book.” Eren smiled and reached into his jacket pocket, bringing out a small notebook and waving it for extra measure. “You two already have a page each.” Eren tucked the book back in his coat, reaching to take their hands again. “I really do have a lot to talk about, though. I have the best news in the world.” 

Mikasa stood up straighter, eyes like a hawk. Armin could only relax more and more seeing Eren smile that large. “What is it?” 

“I found my human.” 

“That's wonderful news, Eren!” Armin clasped his hands together as Mikasa patted her brother's back. “A little inconvenient with timing, but that's good.” If Eren was anything like the rest of his kind, then maybe having a human waiting at home would urge him to be safer. One could dream. A side glance to Mikasa at least showed she was taking the news well. If Eren was happy, maybe things would be okay. 

“I'm so glad you think so, because I was worried how you would take it.” Eren returned to rubbing their hands absentmindedly, his own acting like they had been touch starved for years. 

“Why wouldn't we take it well? Your mom said this kind of thing is one of the best moments of your life.” 

The look in Eren's eyes before his next sentence really should have braced Armin for the answer. 

“Because it's Captain Levi.” 

And thus, these were the events that led back to Armin's semi-normal day becoming one giant headache. 

“ _You can't be serious.”_  Armin and Mikasa's hands dropped from Eren's touches, both teens’ faces morphing into a familiar expression donned many times throughout their youth. The face that said without words,  _“Eren, what have you done?”_

Eren, as always, missed this entirely as Armin and Mikasa tried to put sense in his head.

“Eren, that is probably the worst choice for a special human you could possibly make.”

“He hurt you.”

“He's way older than you, he's your superior, he's supposed to  _kill_ you if you go out of line—” 

“He looks untrustworthy.” 

“He's another man, and while that wouldn't be a problem normally, he's  _another man in the military_ and that could have major backlash against both of you—” 

“He's short.” 

Like water against a duck’s feathers, every comment seemed to roll right off Eren as if they had never been said at all. Armin had a sneaking suspicion Eren was actually ignoring them to the best of his ability. Which he probably was, because despite Armin’s argument, Eren would never change his mind. That was a feature in his friend everyone and their mother knew would never leave. Once Eren set his mind on something, there was no budging. 

“He isn't as bad as you think. The stuff he did in court—” Mikasa stiffened at the mention of Eren's bloody display. “—was all an act. He had to put on a show. It's not even worth getting even over.” 

“It is to me.” Mikasa's voice was absolute gravel, worsened by her tugging her scarf over her mouth. 

“No.” Eren's eyes furrowed with agitation. “Mikasa, I love you. I really do. But you aren't allowed to touch my human.” 

Mikasa made a low growling noise in the back of her throat. Eren responded with an angry stare. Armin, noticing their fellow recruits watching this entire ordeal from a barely respectable distance, sighed and placed his hands on his friends’ shoulders. He could feel them slowly begin to unwind, though their angry eye contact remained. 

“Bad choices for lifelong affection aside—”

“He is a perfect choice.”

“—this is the first we've seen you in days. Can we not fight?” 

The siblings seemed to instantly take Armin’s words to heart, allowing the tension to melt away. Armin smiled a bit at the change. 

It was Eren who spoke up first, tone much weaker than his previous argumentative one. “So, is it just you guys here?”

“Nope!”

Eren's head whirled to meet the weary eyes of the former 104th trainee squad. One could wonder if they had been waiting the entire time for a cue, or if they truly had chosen that moment to walk by and finally engage in conversation. “Oh, wow, you all joined…” Eren's voice was surprised, yet mixed with slight worry. “So, only Jean, Annie, and Marco went to the Military Police?” 

Everyone's eyes immediately shot to the ground. Reiner rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. Connie toed the dirt with his boots. 

From his side, Armin could see Jean approach before Eren had even finished. Jean looked even worse than usual. Since Trost, he had looked nervous, mumbling to himself when he thought no one was looking, eyes darting all over, practically chewing his nails—and the circles under his eyes in the morning were doubling. 

At the moment, he looked angry. 

“Marco's dead.” 

Armin regretted not stopping Jean in his tracks right then. The look on Eren's face ruined any good feelings that could come from their reunion. In his mind, the phrase he had so often repeated came back with a vengeance at the heartbreaking sight of Jean choosing  _now_ to antagonize Eren.

Unbeknownst to Armin, it was in Eren's mind, too. 

_You can't be serious._

“...w-what?” 

 

* * *

 

Erwin Smith's tone was a firm one. There was no nonsense in his voice. Only firmness and hard truth. When he took that kind of tone, one he only took in moments of dire importance, his closest subordinates knew he meant business. He also sought help. 

It was few and far between that all of them were summoned to Erwin's office like this, and when they were, they forwent the usual banter and dove straight into the dirty business Erwin was most likely conducting. If he wanted all four of them together in complete privacy, chances were he was asking for their input on something highly important. This time was no different. Hanji had removed her goggles and sat with her hands propped under her chin. Levi was at attention under his impassive glare. Mike was silently but eagerly awaiting whatever it was Erwin had to say. 

Erwin did not disappoint. 

“We need to talk about Eren.” The Commander dropped a thick file in the center of the table, baring its contents for all to see. 

“What about Eren?” Levi reached for the file only for Hanji to snatch it away. She lacked her usual joy as she thumbed through each paper in a serious curiosity that was rarely seen by the likes of man. Levi allowed this on the grounds her expression told him everything he needed to know about the contents. “Is this about the spoon incident?”

“No.” Erwin crossed his arms, frown deepening. “This is a bit more complicated than titan shifting.” 

All three of his companions waited, steeling themselves. 

“Someone is killing every psychic the Legion gets their hands on. Eren is next.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why not the full reunion scene? NO WORRIES WE'LL COME BACK TO IT
> 
> Why cut Erwin's meeting off there? BECAUSE I'M OVER DRAMATIC. 
> 
> Hit me up on tumblr at shingeki-no-unicorns, and remember I track the tag 'fic: Eyes of Gold'
> 
> Don't forget to leave a comment! Don't be afraid to ask questions, engage me in a conversation, or just leave stupid song lyrics. I love everything you guys send. I just plain love interacting.


	9. Meetings of Dire Importance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is everything in this franchise a conspiracy?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOULD YOU BELIEVE I WROTE MOST OF THIS IN ONE SITTING? BECAUSE I DID AND IT WAS AMAZING. 
> 
> I thought this chapter would take me forever but then I realized as I sat down: I am the dialogue master. For some reason I can convey entire stories and scenarios with 99% dialogue. I think years of chat rooms have perfected this art. Bless. 
> 
> I hope my editor caught all the potential mistakes, she blew through this thing super fast...
> 
> Anyway good news and bad news. GOOD NEWS: We're reaching the part of the story I've looked forward to the most. The myth arc. There's some OC use but I promise I'll try to contain myself but writing these guys are a joy and I can pump out chapters faster than the speed of light. 
> 
> BAD NEWS: My parents are demanding I get a job. This is apparently the only way I'll be allowed to own a car, so adding that on top of school and my attempts to better my art for a potential portfolio...I might get busy. But considering I am a terrible procrastinator with a history of creative internet addiction I can probably keep the pace up. 
> 
> Enjoy the chapter darlings~

_Notes from the desk of Hanji Zoe_

_Subject: Questionnaire follow up_

 

_Erwin called a meeting almost immediately after sending me the list of tests and questions for Eren._

_I'm inclined not to write down most of what was said, but things are graver than expected concerning Eren's situation. For now, I'm still rounding up evidence with Moblit to search deeper into everything. Erwin has us pouring over mythology texts and old stories, and it truly amazes me how many different beings may be real. A lot of the material we need was banned by the government for encouraging exploration so we're running short on anything that might be useful. I could always ask Levi for help but his black market connection is something he only uses when he literally has no other choice. Something about not wanting to see a “raging bitch” again._

_So far we have nothing useful, but thankfully, I've completed several of Erwin's requests and added data he would find useful._

 

  * _Eren's visions last a duration of two to three seconds to outsiders. Inside his head the concept of time is too muddled to determine for sure._
  * _Not all visions show linear events. Eren says some show random events in no order, making a time line difficult to piece together without more context._
  * _Visions can come in dreams, but this is very rare and often disorienting upon waking._
  * _Sometimes a prediction has no real form, just a feeling of “knowing.” Eren says the weather is probably the most common manifestation of this type._
  * _A vision could show something within the next few minutes, hours, or skip ahead and show years ahead in different time lines of possibility. Decisions made can affect all outcomes and nothing is written in stone._
  * _Eren says they don't have much in terms of faith. The closest thing to a religion in his life were stories his mother told him, supposedly passed down all psychic families from time before the walls._
    * _These stories aren't preached as ultimate truth, more as Eren put it: “Stuff that could be true, but we're skeptical and it makes a good story anyway”_
    * _Most of them center around gods and monsters. Details are scarce but the few Eren has shared have all been adventurous and filled with fantasy._
    * _The one Eren holds in high reverence is the story about the Fates. He says of all the stories, this is the one psychics hold dear and more than often believe. He himself isn't very sure about it but the story still has his respect, as the concept of fate shapes much of psychic mentality._
    * _I'm going to ask Eren about his stories, as they might actually aid our current investigation._
  * _At Eren's age he is now coming into real power with his abilities. His visions are getting stronger and longer. His potential is growing. Unfortunately, he says psychics don't even attempt to really hone their possible power until their forties. Apparently their teenage rebellion phase lasts decades._
  * _Eren doesn't know full details on potential with his powers. His mother never had the chance to tell him. The farthest he knows of is trying to induce full prophecies. (Note: ask more about this later.)_
  * _Eren doesn't know if anything can truly harm him using his powers. I personally don't feel comfortable with that answer._



 

_Hopefully I can weasel more answers out of him soon; I still have a pile of questions Erwin wants on his desk by Monday._

  _As for Eren's psych eval, I'm still far from finishing but I have a few separate things that are definitely going on the report. Mainly the result of the empathy test. Eren told the squad that psychics aren't supposed to hold normal humans in any high regard, or care very much what happens to them. Eren is the complete opposite._

_Normally a soldier with empathy for his fellow man is a good thing. It helps camaraderie and allows connections to be made. But in the Legion, and especially with Eren's powers, what if being overly empathic with others could potentially hurt him? Eren tells me disregard for human suffering actually makes him furious. Is this a good trait or a bad trait for him…?_

 

* * *

 

Erwin's announcement seemed to suck the air out of the room, leaving everyone with a grim outlook. 

“And you dug this up all in the past few days?” Hanji chewed her lip as she flipped through each page of the folder. “I didn't even know the Legion had this many psychics on record.” 

“None of them were on record.” Erwin frowned. “Coming out and saying they exist would be met with scorn and disbelief, so each one had their existence covered up by the Commander at their time of service. I will be inclined to do the same with Eren for his safety.” 

“It's actually a good call.” Levi leaned farther back into his chair, eyes flicking up to Erwin's. “I know for a fact they go for a high price to certain kinds of people.” 

“So you had to pick out which ones were which by context clues in their files,” Hanji hummed. Her smile reappeared in a flash. “Nice work, chief.”

“Most of them mysteriously received promotions to positions that made sure they had power, but not enough to overpower superiors that would be in charge of them. Warrant Officer seemed the most common.” Erwin sat down, folding his hands and resting his chin as he delved into thought. 

Hanji snickered before holding up a paper from the file and sending Levi a dastardly amused look. “Along with Lance Corporal.” 

Levi kicked her under the table. “Shut up, Hanji.”

Erwin silenced them both by sharpening his eyes. “Another indicator was having a very high superior as close company. Presumably as their handler. Shadis was directly in charge of the last known psychic in the Legion.”

Hanji shuffled through the papers before holding up the correct one, placing it in the center of the table. “Alban Erdmann. Age eighteen when he joined the Legion. Age nineteen when he passed in the hospital.” 

Levi leaned over to take the paper, flicking over the important bits. “Says here he was in a coma.” 

“Alban, according to Shadis and all reports, had a sudden seizure in the midst of battle.” Erwin confirmed their statements with a grimace. “It was more than a seizure. His eyes were glowing when he went down.” 

“Overuse of power?” Hanji quirked her head up at the thought, reaching for the notebook she had been recording everything concerning Eren's abilities in and grasping for the pencil eternally tucked in her hair. “Do you think exhaustion could play a part in it? Maybe making them use their power too much pushes them over the edge—” 

“Potentially, but it seems like a weak theory.” Erwin removes his hands from their folded position before turning to Mike. “Mike, did Eren seem stressed to you?” 

“Frustrated, but not stressed. He didn't have that same high strung scent that other people have when stress piles up.” Mike shrugged, rubbing his stubble at the memory. “Did the last one seem stressed before he went down?”

“If memory serves correctly, yes.” Erwin's eyes drifted to a corner as he thought back to his days as a cadet. “Alban was always a bit finicky, but before the mission that cost him his life, he was extra jittery. Snapped if you tried to touch him, even. He clutched his private notebook to his chest like he wanted to glue it there.” 

“Do you think whatever was in it might help?” Levi took one final look at Alban's file before handing it back. 

“Yes. I've begun to try and locate it, but Shadis doesn't seem to have it. Which is unusual since he was Alban's handler.” 

“Maybe he hid it,” Mike supplied. “Before the mission, he might have put it in a place where he could fetch it if he came back.” 

 “No, Alban was deathly protective of it.” Erwin waved the suggestion off. “He would have had it with him. The report of his seizure didn't list any possessions on his person, which means it was taken off of his body.” 

“Great, so we have to see who would jack a book off a corpse.” Levi slunk down in his seat, frowning. “Wonderful lead to go on.” 

“I'm sure you could find it.” Erwin's tone became lighter, a suggestive brow rising. “After all, you have—” 

“ _No_ ,”Levi hissed. “I'll go to that option if we literally have nothing else. Don't you dare suggest I try it first.” 

“Worth a shot.” Erwin gave a shrug. “Until it comes to that, I want Mike to look into the officers in charge of Alban from the time he collapsed to the time he passed in the hospital.” 

“Consider it done.” 

Hanji placed Alban's report back in the folder, pulling out another sheet. “What about the other psychics?” 

“They were what told me something was deliberately killing them. Take a look at each report.” Erwin smoothed the papers out, pointing to the same line on each one. “Alban was just the latest in a line of mysterious deaths.” 

“Gabriel Friedhelm, found seizing in the mess hall before dying in the hospital,” Hanji read off. “Abigail Frauke, found dead in her bed with evidence pointing to brain aneurism.” 

Levi picked up one report with distaste. “Felix Engelbert, found dead in the library slumped in his chair. Whoever is killing them off has a weird pattern.” 

“But still a pattern. With no witnesses to tell us who may have done it,” Erwin emphasized. “Eren is a valuable asset to the Legion and we can't afford to lose him.” 

“We also can't push a psychic investigation to the forefront,” Levi pointed out. “He can become a titan. That warrants more attention. The courts could easily take him and kill him because we didn't use the time we have wisely.” 

“I know, it puts all of us in a difficult situation.” Erwin tapped the table, leaning back in his chair. “The tests for Eren's titan abilities will continue, and that issue will be given top importance. But behind that, we need to assure his safety. Not a word of this gets back to Eren.” 

Mike soundlessly reached over and slapped Hanji's pencil out of her hand, forcing her to stop taking notes. 

“I want his security tight. Levi, you know what that means.” 

“Don't let the little shit out of sight, I know.” Levi looked displeased, but compliant. Hanji snickered at the memory of Eren's behavior that morning. “Should I inform my squad?” 

“The more people who know about this, the bigger chance of interference. Just tell them to tighten their watch on him.” Erwin collected the papers from the table center, shuffling them back into a pile. “And keep his stress levels down. If that does have a part in why all of these psychics are dead, then we can't take chances.” 

“That might backfire.” Levi sent a glare at Hanji for her giggling before continuing. “He's twitchy, even if he acts like he isn't.” 

“I haven't seen him that way.” Hanji pouted. 

“You didn't sit next to him at breakfast. He made sure not to get near the rest of the squad.” Levi conveniently left out that Eren had also repeatedly tried to hold his hand for some ungodly reason. “After  _the spoon incident_ , he might think they're a bunch of stab-happy lunatics.” 

“He said he trusts them.” 

“He said he trusts them. He didn't say he wasn't afraid. I trust you, but I still get the hell out of the building when you start giggling and mumbling to yourself—”

Hanji interrupted with the biggest pout she could muster. “Is that why you never stick around for my experiments?” 

“Schedule team bonding exorcizes.” Erwin shut down yet another argument and directed Levi's attention back to him. “Keep Eren calm. Trust goes both ways, and I'm sure your squad needs a bit more prompting to put their faith in him.” 

“He's a titan.” 

“He's also a psychic. Whatever his motivations may be, his visions need to be taken seriously.” Levi opened his mouth to speak, but Erwin cut him off by holding up his hand. “I know  _you_ take them seriously, and I appreciate you following that order. But if he tells someone else and they disregard him completely, we could lose his support.”

“I may not fully believe the whole 'psychic' thing, but I have heard a bit about them from stories,” Mike added on. “Brushing them off is a good way to make them angry.”

Erwin nodded. “And we need all his talents. Combining his predictions with a honed titan ability could turn this war around.”

 “So keep the kid safe and happy. Got it,” Levi sighed.

“Shouldn't be too hard, considering he smiles the entire time you're around.” Hanji smirked. 

Mike and Erwin's heads swiveled to stare at Levi. In turn he glared at Hanji and kicked her under the table. Again. “It's nothing. He's a suck up.” 

“He's attached and it's kind of adorable.” Hanji side-whispered none too quietly. 

“Pleasant.” Erwin almost looked amused. Mike hid a snicker under his hand. 

“So is this meeting done? Can we go now? The kid's been alone with my squad this entire time.” Levi kicked Hanji again, keeping his voice level. 

“We can call it here for today, yes.” Erwin handed the folder back to Hanji in a silent command to keep reading into the issue. “Just to be clear: Levi, you are in charge of keeping Eren safe and mentally sound.” 

“Understood.” 

“Mike, you look deeper into Alban's death.” 

“Yessir.” 

“And, Hanji, I have a request.” 

“Yes?” Her smile was devious, clutching the folder with excited hands. 

“I want you to learn everything you can about the mythology surrounding Eren and anyone who may be like him. Continue your tests and questions, too, but please gather intel.” 

“You got it. And no telling Eren?”

“Eren is not to hear a word of this. Dismissed.” 

 

* * *

 

If Levi thought he would get peace after the meeting, he was wrong on so many levels it was actually a bit ridiculous. 

“Um, Captain Levi? Sir?” 

He'd seen the blond lurking, but until then had ignored him. Wasn't he supposed to be outside with the rest of the cadets? He'd sworn he'd seen this one talking to Eren when he left to fetch his horse. “What? If you're looking for Eren—”

“Oh, I've already talked to him.” The blond waved it off nervously, shuffling his feet. “He's wheedling our friends out of their hair, so I have a few minutes to tell you something.” 

“…wheedling out their hair?”

 

* * *

 

With the rest of the 104th, Eren gave an angry stare at Connie's head as Sasha tried to cut off a bit of her ponytail without chopping the entire thing off by accident. His request for hair samples (purely for the protection of his friends, you see. He did  _not_ want a repeat performance of poor Marco) was flowing less than smoothly. And the fault rested completely not on Reiner and Ymir, who outright said no, but on  _Connie_. 

“…what? Is there something on my face?” 

“GROW SOME HAIR!” 

 

* * *

 

“It's an Eren thing,” the blond clarified. “But that's not why I'm here. It's about a… _different_ Eren thing.” 

“Well, what is it? I don't have all night.” Levi loosened his grasp on his horse reigns and faced the cadet in full. 

“My name is Armin Arlert. I was at Eren's trial.” Levi remembered him a little more clearly now. This was the one next to the Ackerman girl. The thought gave him a bit of the urge to grimace, but he withheld. He didn't have any proof that the girl had a connection to  _him,_ and hopefully the lack of contact continued. “And there's something about Eren you should know.” 

“Is this about the psychic thing? Because we already know.” 

“Sort of.” Armin looked nervous, timidly shuffling before steeling himself. “He's chosen you.” 

There was a moment of silence. 

“What?” 

“He's chosen you. As one of his. You're above Mikasa and I on the importance list, actually. You're the special human.”

 There was yet another moment of silence. This one drew on much longer, Levi's eyes squinting as he stared at the blond with an expression that mixed disbelief with utter refusal of reality. Armin appeared wholly nonplussed. The seconds ticked by seemingly forever as the statement hung in the air. 

  
Suddenly Eren's behavior that day made complete sense. Eren wasn't just sucking up. He was trying too hard to please. He was trying to make Levi happy. Was this a love thing? Oh, lord, it probably  _was_. “…fuck no. Tell him  _no_ , I refuse, find someone else—” 

“It doesn't work like that.” Armin's face morphed into pity. “Believe me; I learned the hard way, sir. When Eren chooses you ,you just end up stuck with him for the rest of your life.” 

“I'm saying  _hell fucking no_.” 

“You can say no all you want. You're still the special human. There isn't really a way out of it.” Armin wrung his hands, watching the increasingly annoyed expression on Levi's face develop. “Sorry.” 

The captain was close to punching something. “‘Sorry’ doesn't fix the terrible fucking choice being made here. Doesn't he understand—” 

“I already tried explaining. Logic and Eren don't mix.” 

Levi said nothing, because he knew that little tidbit was probably the ultimate truth of the universe. “…and you felt the need to come tell me this why?” 

“Because knowing Eren, he would wait until he's made a mess of things.” Levi had to agree with that. “I grew up with him so I can at least give you a warning.” 

“I never asked for this.” Levi deadpanned. 

“I didn't either, but here we are.” Armin brought up his shoulders, offering a look asking for peace. “Now, you probably never heard of the 'special human'—”

“Damn right I never have. This is ridiculous—” 

“But it isn't at all like how it might sound. The special human is a lifelong tie to the world.” Armin searched for the words to explain, trying to placate the anger slowly brewing in his superior. “It's a person that a seer finds, and they… Well, they're a reason for living.” 

“That's making this even worse, Arlert. I can't be a fifteen-year-old’s crush.”

“I know, I know- But that's where it gets…odd, I guess. The thing about the position you're in is that it doesn't have to be romantic.” Armin held up his hands in defense, a “it's Eren, what can you do” attitude entering his eyes. “Just set boundaries. Seers place value on the relationship they have with their special humans. It's all about keeping them happy and maintaining contact. Your well-being is more important than his own.” 

“…it's even worse than how it sounded. Great job of clearing that up.” Levi rubbed between his eyes, frown deepening by the second. “We live in a world where the future isn't certain, in a branch of the military where we could die any second. And he thinks attaching to me is a good idea.” The growl in his throat almost became painful. “The hell is wrong with him?” 

“I've wondered the same thing for years.” Armin added on nonchalantly. “I just thought you deserved to know. You know, to better brace yourself for what's coming.” 

“What could be worse than sucking up to all holy hell?” Levi's hand left his face to stare at the cadet. 

“Oh, so he's already started then.” Armin looked a bit surprised. “He's going a bit fast.”

“He shouldn't be  _going_ at all.” Levi hissed. 

“I can't stop him. The only way to really end it is for one of you to die.” Armin pointedly avoided looking at Levi's face, which currently emoted the exact feeling that he wished to bash his skull against the nearest wall repeatedly. “And I'd prefer that not happen, because if  _you_ die, Eren will enter despair and go on a suicidal rampage…and if Eren dies,  _Mikasa_  will enter despair and go on a suicidal rampage…” 

“No dying. Right.” Levi clenched his fist. His horse, ignored this entire time and feeling the tension in its master, wisely backed up a bit. There was a reason it survived under Levi's command for so long. “I'll be sure not to die every time we set foot into titan territory, considering I'm on the front lines every fucking time.” 

His angry words seemed to go right over the blonds head, who was taking his reaction rather well. Actually, he seemed expectant. “I can't offer much since Eren and I won't be seeing each other too often, but I can offer a little bit of advice.” 

Levi's tone was completely sardonic. “Perfect. What can you give that won't make this any less awful?” 

“Just set boundaries and fight back when he gets an attitude. He's respected you for years, childhood hero and all, so he'll listen to you better than even the Commander. Eren isn't  _completely_ incompetent _._ ” 

 

* * *

 

With the 104th, Eren currently had Connie pinned to the ground, lifting Connie’s jacket sleeve with one hand and balancing a blade with a vial in the other.

“C'MON, EREN, DON'T—” 

“You don't have any hair! Blood is the only other thing I can get!” 

“I HAVE HAIR! JUST NOT ON MY HEAD!” 

Both paused, as every pair of eyes in the room drifted to the same spot on Connie's body. Ymir cackled loudly, Christa blushed and moved her eyes somewhere else, and Eren remained completely un-amused. To the side, the remaining few who were not willing to give Eren anything contemplated leaving before they suffered the same fate. 

“…I'm going to ignore the implications of that statement and take the blood now.” 

“WAIT, NO—”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you know Connie's misadventures with Eren's hair collection was actually a huge thing me and Codi laughed about while developing this story? Eren would def collect 104th hair for protection reasons, but damn, Connie would piss him off. 
> 
> As always BE SURE TO LEAVE A COMMENT and remember I track the tag 'Fic: Eyes of Gold' on tumblr! Follow me @shingeki-no-unicorns.tumblr.com


	10. Reunion pt 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Does it count as desertion when you already gave your life?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy late Halloween and Merry early Christmas. Thanksgiving? No one cares about Thanksgiving-
> 
> I'm actually pretty worried about how this chapter will go over with everyone. The jump to the myth arc and such will steer the fic in a new direction and I'm scared it will scare people off. On the other hand I really really love writing it. Hopefully you won't all hate it. 
> 
> I mean, my editor passed it back, so it's gotta be somewhat okay, right?

 

  
_Summer_

_Monday_

_Dear Journal,_

_I'm still a bit new to this. I was never the type to keep a diary, not even as a little girl, so the idea of pouring my heart and soul into this little book seems new and a bit scary. After three years in the bunks with other girls, I've gotten used to the idea of no longer having privacy. Hell, we could hear the boys in their bunks and knew just what they got up to when the lights went off._

_Wait, no, that sounds wrong. Ew._

_I suppose I should start off by saying what's on my mind, I guess. Introduce myself._

_I was supposed to be a soldier. I was a girl who came from a simple village and led a simple life. I had a mother and a father I loved dearly. I joined the military to be strong. I endured three years of training and proved I was capable. I was strong enough to fight titans, I was brave enough to join the Scouting Legion, and I was good enough to live in a world that was so dangerous and cruel. But I utterly failed._

_I failed, and I had to leave._

_It eats at me a bit, knowing how hard I failed when it came time to show how much of a soldier I was. I thought I could be as strong as my squad mates, one of which ended up in the top ten through pure determination, but when the titans came, we fell like insects._

_It's not all bad, though. I met my new boss that day. He reached out when I had suffered and he offered me a new start. He's been so kind and thoughtful about this entire thing; he's made me useful again. I really couldn't be more grateful. My new job is actually very nice as well. A bit grim at times, but I can stomach it. I think I can stomach anything after fighting titans._

_I'm currently an apprentice, so I'm the lowest in the hierarchy of the household. I don't notice that often because everyone has been exceptionally nice about teaching me. We all live in a large manor just inside of Sina, and it belongs to our boss. He lets his workers live with him and use the lower guest rooms. He also pays for flats in the cities and cabins in villages, because a lot of his workers do their jobs elsewhere. I've stayed in one of his other estates only once, and it was very nice._

_The manor is even nicer. There are gardens everywhere with every kind of plant and flower you can imagine, and some you can't. There are huge windows always letting in sunlight, too. Everything is pristine and clean and new. He even has a piano. I've heard him play a few times and his voice is very nice. It's different from the beat up piano that sat in the bar my graduating class celebrated in. This one is large and black and is so shiny I use it as a mirror on the way to the kitchens. Speaking of the kitchens, the FOOD— I have this one friend who would lose her mind if she ever saw the amount of meat we have stored away. Er, had. I don't think I can ever see her again now._

_The Master (that's what everyone seems to call him; I just use “Sir” for now) doesn't actually eat all that often. Most of the food is really here for us. The other workers often forget to eat, but they just forget they have to. I've been eating as much as I can because I've never had the option before and it's so amazing. There's a chef who works here and he makes the most delicious meals; but for us workers, most of the time we make our own food. Miss Dion has taught me a few quick things to make since I didn't really know how._

_She's the person I'm training under, by the way. I was told that for my apprentice term I train under someone who's been around longer. She's nice. She's a bit vulgar, though. Always cursing and ranting at something and laughing when things happen to other people. But she's been helpful and I've had a lot of fun learning from her. She doesn't beat around the bush and jumps right in, pushing me to learn from experience._

_I think with more time, the guilt from Trost will fade and I'll truly come to think of my work here as more important. And it all starts with this journal. If I'm going to record history, then it all starts with these entries talking about my life. And who I was before all of this._

_My name is Mina Carolina, and I died when I was fifteen in the battle of Trost. That day I left behind the life of a human soldier, and I rose above to watch and aid humanity another way._

 

* * *

 

Marco had decided to wander off when Jean was getting his medical exam.

It wasn't because he was bored, or because Jean was ignoring him. He was actually growing used to that. Unlike every other dead person in the building who wanted to talk _now_ even if other people were around, Marco understood that the sight of Jean talking to thin air and using a dead friend's name was probably a terrible idea if he wanted to go anywhere in the military.

It still hurt to not have Jean say anything back, but Marco understood why that was at least.

No, Marco slipped out because, honestly, the things the medical examiner said were painful. Mere words caused him pain _when he had no physical body or nerves._

“All right, Miss Lenz, just relax. Focus on something else in the room, something funny. Like the skeleton model in the corner! Some people find him,” the examiner leaned down to nudge her with his elbow and grinned, not noticing her discomfort, “ _humerus_.”

Christa rightfully didn't respond, and since Jean was next in line, he heard the entire thing and groaned _for_ her. Hell, Marco groaned, too. The examiner pouted at the lack of applause for his brilliant joke.

“Oh, come on, nothing? I spent all morning on that.”

“I'm sorry, Mr. Weiss.” Christa was too good for her own good; she actually felt bad about not laughing and Marco wanted to pat her on the little head.

“Meh, don't even try to fake it. And it's Karin.” The examiner waved her off with another pout. “Let's just get this over with so the grumpy groaner over there can get out of here quicker.”

Lo and behold, when it actually was Jean's turn, Karin tried again with different puns. He seemed determined to incite a laugh. Maybe this was his coping strategy with working for the Legion. Or maybe he was just insane. Insane was a fine theory.

“These needles and I have something in common- We're both pretty _sharp_!”

Marco chose that moment to leave, Jean sending a _furious_ look his way as he phased through the wall. Marco could feel Jean’s piercing “ _How dare you leave me alone with this—!_ ” even as Karin moved to block his view to go through the exam checklist.

Marco gave an apologetic smile and turned away to perch on the window ledge. When Marco parted from Jean, it was usually night and the only people he saw were dead ones. Jean said the dead were active at night, something about veils thinning or some-such. The dead weren't very talkative; they mainly went about their own business, shuffling around parts of the base they might have been attached to. Some of them repeated loops of actions in their final moments.

Some, like one young looking spirit Marco always found in the stables, actually engaged in conversation until her energy fizzled out. He found he liked talking to her when the night ran on for too long. But she wouldn't be out for hours, so he had to find another way to kill time until Jean and the others were finished.

Speaking of which, Marco canted his head to listen in to the activity in the building.

_“WOULD YOU SHUT IT WITH THE PUNS ALREADY—”_

Deciding it would probably take a while, Marco opted to step off the ledge and take a walk. Falling as a spirit was different than being alive, and he would probably never get used to it. It felt weightless, or for a better word, like nothingness. Perhaps because he didn't weigh anything anymore.

Jean's concerns about being too relaxed over his death came back for a moment, but Marco brushed them off. He had eternity to be upset about it, but if he went off moping, Jean would notice and worry and— No, he wouldn't do that to him. Jean didn't need to worry about someone who didn't exist. Jean needed to focus so he wouldn't be the next one phasing through walls. Shaking his head of all these worries, Marco set off.

Today he didn't feel much like exploring. He had seen every inch of the property already from his nighttime strolls. Just last night he had accidentally wandered into the Commander’s office to find him nearly asleep over a titan-sized book about folklore. Thank goodness the man wasn't a medium, or that would have been too awkward.

Another funny thing about being dead was walking itself. He did it mechanically, one foot in front of the other, never leaving a dent in the dirt under his feet. There was no sound of his boot hitting the earth. Several times already he had been wandering only to realize his legs weren't moving and he was actually _gliding_ through the halls. Or, he thought he was. He couldn't remember the mundane passing of objects that always went with moving around. Was he fading out? Maybe Jean would know. He needed help with this whole _dead_ thing, and the other dead people weren't much help.

Several times, he had been stopped by one, only to find out they thought they were still alive and kept asking why no one was responding to their questions. He never had the heart to tell them.

He had been passing by the gate to the base when it caught it his eye. His mind was still on the poor souls who thought they were alive, but his peripheral vision snapped him from his thoughts at the sight of a familiar face.

“—na, I need to get a report from someone inside, so wait somewhere not too far from the base. I'll be back soon.”

“Yes, ma'am. Do I need to hide?”

“Probably. Find a shop or something. Once I'm done, we go back to Sina in a few days and we can tell the asshole whether or not dumbass is doing his job.”

“Who…?”

“Master and the Mole.”

“Oh.”

Marco eased up to the gate, peering out carefully. If his heart still worked, it would be beating rapidly. That voice was too familiar. It couldn't be. He _knew_ she was dead. Armin had seen her die; her torso had been bitten clean through—

Marco didn't know whether to cheer or to scream when he saw Mina Carolina standing on the street corner. She was waving goodbye to a blonde woman heading for the gates, who passed by Marco without a glance, before turning to go the opposite direction.

Marco didn't need to think twice about whether or not to follow her.

She wasn't like him. That was what he noticed first. She was solid, her feet made sound against the cobblestones of the road, and her chest rose and fell with each breath. She was solid. She had pink cheeks. She had added a jacket to her casuals, a small hat covering her head but not enough to shield two little pigtails from view as they bounced against her shoulders. And she hummed as she walked, finding her way into a little clothing shop to examine the work done by an aging seamstress.

Marco couldn't believe it. How could she be so calm? She had died in Trost—she had _supposedly_ died—and now here she was _shopping_. Had she deserted? If she had, then what was she thinking being so close to a military base? Was she not concerned for her own safety?

Had she been discharged? If so, then the rest of the cadets wouldn't add her name to those being mourned. He had seen the lists as they were being made. Mina Carolina had been right under Eren—

Eren.

Had she found a way out like Eren had?

Marco still didn't know the details beyond, in Jean's words, _“Eren turned into a titan and threw a fit,”_ so that entire concept was still a mystery. Could he ask? No. No…she wasn't like Jean. She didn't have the same sight he did. If he tried to talk to her, she wouldn't hear a thing. It would be just like wandering through Trost, having one-sided conversations with the cleanup squads.

And that was a horrible memory Marco did not want to repeat anytime soon.

He could only watch through the glass of the shop as Mina picked out several pairs of trousers (and one top that looked a bit large— Was she shopping for someone else?) and smiled through a conversation with the seamstress. Marco clenched his fists. There was a tornado of emotions rumbling in his chest. He couldn't control it; he lost his composure and a flood of different questions with different meanings flew through his head. How could she be alive? How could she walk away after what she saw?

_Why was she here now? Why did she somehow live when he had died?_

He yelped and stepped back as the window to the shop cracked down the middle, sounding like a thunderbolt, and both occupants of the shop whirled around to stare.

Mina's eyes locked with his.

_She saw him._

She grabbed her bags, begging the seamstress a good day and good luck with the window, and bolted out the door.

“Mina, wait—” Marco reached out, but she backed away as if his touch would burn. He couldn't help but feel hurt. If she could see him, wouldn't she be used to the dead? Was she like Jean and scared of interacting? “Mina…”

“Leave me alone.” She hitched her bags up higher, holding up one hand in an attempt to ward him off. “Don't tell the others—”

“What?”

“Don't—” She paused, taking in the sight of him before her mouth dropped into an “o” and her breathing became uneven. “Holy shit— Holy _shit_ ,  _MARCO_ , YOU'RE DEAD—”

…had she not noticed? Jean had told him he looked slightly transparent; that should have been a signal he wasn't exactly physical. “Um—”

“I can't believe this! How many of you—? No, don't answer that! I don't want to know! I can't believe this is what talking to a dead person is like—” Mina's hand shot to her head, rubbing it harshly. “They never said it would be this stressful, and OH, MY GOD, YOU'RE STILL HERE—”

“Mina—”

He couldn't seem to get in more than one word, because Mina kept interrupting with loud breaths and fanning herself. Followed by more shouting. “GO AWAY! Forget about me! I was never here and I'm dead!”

She took off, running around him to enter deeper into the business district. Marco stood stock still for a moment as if to register what had happened.

Then he spun and took off after her.

She might have been small, but her hat kept his eyes focused. He could see it bouncing among the low midday crowds in the market. Why was she running? Maybe she really _was_ a deserter and was upset her cover was blown. And why had she reacted so badly to seeing him? If she could see the dead, too, then she should be used to it, right? Jean was scared but he was used to seeing them at least. He didn't scream when one suddenly appeared and begged for interaction.

Wait, she _had_ had the sight like Jean, right? Did Marco suddenly become one of those spirits normal people could see?

…if he did, then the other people would see him, too, and since a gentleman just passed through his left leg, he guessed not.

Running felt clumsy and wrong without having to take deep breaths or feeling any muscle ache. His speed stayed constant, weaving through crowds, keeping his eyes focused on the hat darting between businessmen on their break. He could hear Mina panting with effort as she glanced back, yelping to see Marco closing in. She darted into an alley and made a beeline for an opening that would lead to another street. Marco gritted his teeth and begged to be faster; surely he could do it, surely—

He wasn't sure how, but suddenly, he was in front of her, and she shrieked as she ran through his torso. It felt _odd_. Like he broke apart for a moment, bits slowly forming back together as Mina hacked and gagged.

“Oh, god. Oh, god, I think I'm going to throw up…”

“Then don't run!”

“Not from _that_ ; ghosts make people nauseous!” Mina propped her hands on her knees, bending to shake and choke back the vomit that wanted to work its way up. “Why are you following me anyway? Go away!”

“Why are you running?”

“Because a dead guy is chasing me!”

“Because I saw someone who should be dead _with_ me!” Both fell into silence, Mina timidly standing back to full attention. “…I didn't mean it that way.”

“No, no, I get it.” Mina held up a hand, backing up against the wall. “Listen, I can't do this now—”

“You can't do what? Tell me how you managed to live? Armin told us you were dead!”

“Armin lived?” Mina sounded pleased, scared still but a touch pleased, at the news that her teammate had survived. “Oh, thank god, I thought he would have died immediately—”

“Yeah, and he's been having nightmares over watching you and the others get eaten.” Marco stamped his foot, crossing his arms and trying his damnedest to fix her with a cross look. It was about as effective as calling a newborn puppy “Killer.” Mina backed up anyway. “Mina, you owe it to him at least. He watched you get eaten.”

Her voice was quiet. Solemn. “I know.” She hugged the crumpled bags to her chest, eyes darting to the ground. “I'm sorry, Marco. I'm really sorry.” Her breath was shaky and uneven. “…how did you die, even? You were in the top ten.”

“…I don't actually remember the details.” Marco uncrossed his arms to rub his neck, hand brushing past the side of his head that had been missing from his body. “I had been about to slice a titan, there was a tug at my chord…then nothing. I woke up after the battle and eventually found the others. But they couldn't see me.”

“I'm sorry,” Mina repeated.

“You had nothing to do with it.” Marco's tone softened, eyes becoming sympathetic as he reached out to comfort her.

“Don't.” She inched away from his touch again. “I do now, though. I have something to do with all of it and I'm so _sorry_ —”

“You aren't making any sense. What happened?”

“I can't tell you! It's—” Mina pursed her lips shut, growling angrily. “I just can't! But I'm sorry! And I'm sorry for everything that's coming!”

Marco only grew more confused. What did she mean? “Everything that's coming?”

“Just remember we aren't trying to do bad things; we're on the same side—” Mina clenched her eyes shut and began to babble rapidly, ignoring Marco's protests.

“Mina—”

There were tears slipping out the corners of her eyes, just managing to roll down as her babbling increased. “Just have faith in us and watch out for all the others. I can't control what happens—”

“What are you—? OW!” Marco felt searing pain on his back. Hot fire, curling tendrils of agony creeping up his spine— He dropped to his knees, disbelief wide in his eyes. This was the first time he had felt pain in days. It felt human. Alive. He had forgotten what that was like. Above him he heard Mina's panicked voice with a new one. A calmer, but angrier one.

He raised his head weakly to meet the eyes of the blonde woman who left Mina at the base. Her skin was darker in the alley, now a menacing dark gray rather than tan, and her expression aimed to kill. “Spirit, you have no business with this girl.”

“I just—” Marco started.

“Shut the fuck up before I throw more rock salt. Get away from her.” The woman reached for a pouch wrapped around her torso, hand coming around something crunchy.

Mina broke from her spot against the wall to hold her arm down. “Miss Dion, wait! He wasn't doing anything!”

She huffed and threw the younger girl a look. “I passed by. He cracked a shop window. You can't let spirits get angry; they turn bad—”

“Please, he was a friend of mine.”

The two stared at each other, Marco slowly feeling the tendrils of fire ebb off with a pulse that distantly reminded him of a heartbeat. Finally, the woman withdrew her hand from the pouch and Mina breathed a sigh of relief. The woman, Miss Dion apparently, glared him down.

“Don't come snooping again. This one isn't your concern anymore. You're dead; you should move on.” Before he could say anything back, the woman grabbed Mina's arm and began marching them out of the alley. “If you try to follow us, I'm sending your undead ass to Hell, got it?”

Mina turned back, sending a sad look. Marco would make out the words “I'm sorry” being mouthed back at him.

By the time the rock salt had worn off and he could stand, the two of them were long gone.

 

* * *

 

“Did you have to be so mean to him?” Mina griped, rubbing at her arm. “I bought you a new shirt and everything and you threw rock salt at my friend!”

“Kid, he was dead.” Miss Dion adjusted her skirt, clicking her tongue for emphasis. “You can't let them linger. They eventually go crazy and obsessive and forget common fucking sense. Especially if they get pissy.”

“Marco isn't the angry type, though.” Mina half-jogged to keep up with her mentor’s pace, cursing the other woman’s long-legged advantage.

Miss Dion waved her hands in dismissal. “Maybe not in life. But he cracked glass that was three inches thick without touching it. That kid needs to move on soon. Especially considering the changes that are coming, we can't be on ghost cleanup duty when shit hits the fan.”

Mina frowned, but refrained from saying anything. 

 

* * *

 

When Marco found his way back to Jean, the sun was setting and Jean had reverted back to his old pastime— Picking arguments with Eren. Even with Scouting Legion mantles adorning their shoulders, there was still the childish animosity from training in the air. This time it was tainted with sorrow, and it made the scene all the worse.

Seeing Eren only made Marco think harder about Mina. Was she like Eren? Had she developed some new power to survive? If so, what was with the woman? How long had Mina been with her? Marco needed to talk to Jean about it immediately; he needed help to figure out what was going on.

He couldn't do that while Jean antagonized Eren in front of all their friends.

Marco had to bite his tongue and wait until the firm tone was gone, replaced by Eren going around asking for everyone's hair.

“That was a bit harsh, don't you think?” Inching towards a spot where no one else could hear if he talked low, Jean looked surprised to see Marco.

“What, me telling him you were dead, or…?”

“You chewing him out for something he can't fully control.”

“I needed to do it. I need to know what I'm gonna die for.” Marco felt a stab in his chest, Mina's face flashing before his eyes again. Marco’s voice was harsher than intended as he bit out a few choice words about death. Jean instantly lost his anger and leaned closer, concern mapping his features. “Are you okay?”

“I saw something today. Something we need to talk about.” Marco leaned back against the wall, sadly realizing he couldn't feel the solid mass. He almost missed the burning pain from the salt. Why did the salt hurt, anyhow? Jean had never mentioned Marco could feel pain anymore. Was it because it reminded him of being alive? Eren let out a cheer at Mikasa and Armin handing over their hair, and Marco clenched his fists again. “First, I want you to give Eren your hair.”

“Ew, why?” Jean blanched. “I don't want Jaeger to do his weird psychic shit with me. Sasha's okay with it, yeah, but she's weird and kinda dumb—”

“Just do it.” Marco fixed him with an expression that said the argument was over. Jean became even more concerned. “Someone told me big changes were coming today.”

“Marco…?”

Marco felt a jolt in his chest at Jean's eyes growing more questioning and concerned. The urge to wipe the look off Jean’s face was deafening. “Just, better safe than sorry, okay? I'll explain everything tonight.”

Jean looked like he wanted to protest but dropped it and shut his mouth. The two leaned back in silence to wait until Eren came their way.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to comment! Ask questions, leave your concerns, initiate a conversation-I'll take anything I'm desperate to interact
> 
> Remember I'm on tumblr @shingeki-no-unicorns


	11. Teneo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean hates his job. 
> 
> Levi hates his job. 
> 
> Hanji loves her job. 
> 
> Nile hates his job enough to overshadow everyone else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a playlist for this fic now. It's actually an excuse to see how many death related songs I can cram into one list but overall it's a great inspiration when I need to think of material. 
> 
> My family is piling stress on me more and more this holiday season, pressuring me to get a job and raise my grades and suddenly get over my fear of driving-but no fretting, I'll try to pump out chapters faster. Lord knows I need to make the holidays stop taking my motivation. 
> 
> I always get so nervous when I finish a chapter these days. Will people hate what I do? Will my reputation as a creator suffer? Will I one day reach my old levels of not caring and publishing anyway despite writing absolute shit?

_Notes from the desk of Hanji Zoe: Psychics_

_Subject: Routine Observation and Tests_

 

_I've asked Eren to start keeping another journal aside from his book of hair. This one is where he records all his visions, gut feelings, and general predictions. I'll be sure to look over the book with him and report any concerning developments to Erwin so we can act in the name of Eren's safety should anything arise._

_Speaking of his hair book, he's been all over it today. Apparently he ran into some friends and took a lot of samples. I can't wait to see how this affects Eren's daily routine. After all, he says there's a difference between checking friends and just checking people, so I want to see just how much changes in the face of— Oh…I've wandered off topic. Silly me!_

_The new book was cleared with Erwin's permission and Eren seemed fine with the request to use it. He's divided up the pages by person and so far, everyone has at least one prediction on their page._

_My page reads as follows:_

_Hanji:_

  *   _Breaks goggles using explosives (?) — Date unknown. Soon? X_
  * _Makes Moblit choke on tea — Nighttime._
  * _Rubs dirty hands on Levi's neck scarf thing; earns a hit to the face — Today. X_
  * _Pricks me with a needle — Soon._



_I asked Eren what the Xs mean. He says those are visions that have come true. He pointed me to several other predictions on other pages where there was a nice fat X and talked about how each one had come true in some way. Petra had dropped mop water while cleaning the hall, Gunter had cut himself on his blade— Tame things so far._

_I also saw some predictions crossed out, and Eren tells me that means they were averted. I commented on how nice it must be to be able to change the future. Eren looked highly uncomfortable and told me how changing the future isn't really possible._

“ _But you've already done it. You averted events you've seen!” I had said._

_Eren shook his head sadly. “Time doesn't work that way.”_

_Eren's perception of time is always fascinating, so I asked him to elaborate. He says time isn't like how we think— It doesn't move in a straight line towards one big destination. It's something seers learn early on from their parents. The future is always fluctuating and what happens next depends on what is done that could lead to that sequence of events. He doesn't see the future set in stone. He sees possibilities that he can attempt to dodge. And sometimes he's successful._

_But then other times, there simply isn't a way to avoid the outcome, or interference makes a vision be played straight. There isn't a way to tell what will happen but the most that can be done is to try to nudge things towards a better outcome. I really enjoyed hearing his perspective, but when pressed, Eren admitted he never fully understood it. Most of what I just wrote was put into words by his friend Armin._

_I should really talk with this Armin; I feel like his help could really get me going places in my psychic research._

_Eren's titan abilities are still a wild card, so lately all tests have been me fooling with his second sight. Today I developed a test using Eren's book; we would blindfold him and touch his hand with a bit of hair. He has to guess who it is based only from vision context clues._

_At first he was failing miserably—claimed the blindfold made him too anxious to focus—but soon we fell into a nice swing and I got some very interesting data._

_Eren somehow knew Armin and Mikasa's samples before he even touched them. He said, “It feels like them.” Now, gut feeling or not, that's odd. It isn't like the hair speaks. Does it? If hair can speak, then maybe Levi has a point when he gets angry at my bathing schedule._

_We tried to see if Eren could repeat this with other samples, but even with bunk mates he slept next to for three years, Eren had to touch and sort out clues before guessing._

_All except for one. Another boy from training; Eren recoiled from his sample and started making horse jokes._

_I wonder what's so special about “Jean K.” that Eren could tell his sample apart from others._

 

* * *

 

Jean clasped his hands under his nose, bobbing his leg as his eyes stayed focused on the floorboards. In front of him, Marco worried at his bottom lip. Both boys avoided looking each other in the eye for as long as they possibly could. Behind the door, they could hear other cadets getting up and preparing for the day—thumps and shouts and mad dashes for the communal bathroom—but inside their room there was a pregnant silence that seemed to only become tenser with each second.

Marco was glad Jean's room was currently empty, as a roommate would probably mistake Jean's thinking for brooding. If anyone did come in and ask, Marco was sure Jean could half-lie and say he didn't sleep well. Truthfully, once Marco began telling the story, Jean didn't sleep at all.

Jean cut through the silence with a voice that sounded more tired than a teenage boy should be. “Is that everything?”

Marco shuffled his feet. “Yes.”

“…and you're sure this was Mina? She was solid? Sometimes they look realistic.” _They_ ,he said, avoiding Marco's ethereal eyes with a timid shake of the head.

“She was solid. She was _alive_ , Jean.”

“Impossible.”

“She was!” Marco tilted his head to get Jean's eyes back on his and frowned. “It isn't totally impossible. Eren was eaten alive with limbs missing.”

Jean took this into consideration, biting his tongue while lifting a hand to rub at his chin. “That would mean Mina is a titan…shifter…person. I don't think she'd be the type.”

“We know one person total who can become a titan; I don't think there's a 'type' for that.” Marco crossed his arms, cocking one hip as he prepared to argue. “Unless there's something else she could be.”

Jean tensed and tried to quell the vomit in his throat. “There is, and if she is, then I don't want to get involved.”

“Wait, there is? What is it?”

“I don't want to talk about it.”

“Mina was our friend. We can't just leave this. Not after what she said.”

The boys thought back to the message Marco had delivered. Both shifted uncomfortably at the possible meaning.

Again, it was Jean who spoke up first. “Describe the woman who took her.”

“Um…” Marco thought back to the woman in the alley. He remembered burning pain, the first real _feeling_ he had in days, Mina's begging… “She was blonde. Looked like she spent a lot of time outside. Big scowl.” He wracked his head for more, frowning at the lack of words he could summon for the woman.

“What color were her eyes?”

Marco almost didn't hear Jean. His voice was so small, his eyes unfocused as his body shifted towards itself. He looked like a scared child. Marco had to resist the urge to try for a comforting hug.

“…I don't know. The light wasn't that good, so I didn't get a decent look.” Marco pressed his lips together tightly before going forward. “They looked a little reddish, though. So maybe brown?”

Jean turned positively green. One hand clasped over his mouth before his whole body shot up to dive for the small waste bin in the corner. Marco could only watch as Jean emptied out any remnants of his dinner, violently gagging over the bin and shaking profusely. The dead boy couldn't help but feel guilty.

“U-Um, I'm sorry if I—”

Jean held up one hand to silence him, gagging over the bin once, twice, three more times before abruptly darting for his belongings. Marco could only wring his hands together as he watched Jean tear through his knapsack and toss the few belongings he had to the floor. One hand carded through Jean’s hair before he seemed to find the object he was looking for.

Marco recognized it instantly. The little book had been a common sight in training. Jean wrote letters home using its paper, made notes in its margins, and on lazy days, he could be seen with a light pencil or charcoal making small sketches. Jean's hobby had never been widespread—he maintained art skills were useless and he only did it to pass time—but Marco had been close enough to see a good portion of the work inside. Now Jean was turning page after page, far into the parts Marco hadn't been allowed to see.

Near the front, where a shaky hand had written “Jean Kirschstein: age 10,” Jean stopped to give the page an uneasy look. His eyes flickered back to Marco for a bit, always diving back down to the aged paper. “Did she look like this?”

“What?” Marco's shoulders sagged with the question.

“The woman. With Mina. Did—” His breath hitched as he turned the book around to show Marco. “Did she look like this?”

Jean's art skills were much rougher on the page, his unsteady ten-year-old hands failing to capture detail in full, but Marco could easily tell what he was looking at. It almost seemed like some of the lines and details were newer. Improved on. Had Jean gone back to the picture before, when no one was around to see? The yellowed paper was filled with harsh lines depicting a group of people. An elderly man in oversized clothes plucking at the strings of a banjo. A fat man with a large smile strumming another instrument, one with a wider body. A dirty worker banging the sides of a crate to the rhythm.

To the side, with slightly more detail, was a woman clapping her hands, her mouth open mid-song. Her skirt rose as she twirled to the melody of the unheard music. Her hair was half-hanging out of its tie and curled softly around her face.

It was indeed the same woman that had been with Mina. The same sharp eyes, plump cheeks, squashed nose, and sharp chin were all in place, somehow unaltered by the amount of time that must have passed since the picture was made.

“…yeah. That's her.”

“Shit!” Jean slammed the book closed, hands running through his hair as he frantically began to pace around the room. He began to mumble, Marco only catching a few choice words. “This isn't good. This isn't good at all. Why is she finally around after five years? Don't tell me it's still in her—”

“Jean?” Marco reached toward his friend, but his hand passed through Jean’s torso as Jean paced directly through Marco's arm. Jean turned green once more and clutched the spot Marco's arm had touched. “Jean, slow down, I don't understand what you mean—”

Jean quieted and then took a deep breath. He swallowed thickly before clenching his fists. “Marco, I need you to do something today.” Marco nodded in confirmation. “This base has a records room, right?” Marco nodded once more. “Go there today. Look around for reports from five years ago.”

“Like, from the fall of Maria?”

Jean shook his head. “Just before the fall of Maria. It would have happened at least two weeks before.”

“ _What_ would have happened?”

Jean opened his mouth, then clicked it shut as he mulled over the answer. He took another deep breath. “In Trost. There was a murder. It was in my neighborhood, and it got widespread attention before Maria made everything go to shit. Get newspapers and reports from that incident.”

“I can't touch things. You know that.” Marco sagged his shoulders deeper, giving his friend a look that absolutely-was-not-a-pout. “I spent an hour trying to pick up a pen once.”

“You broke a window yesterday!”

“I don't know how!”

Jean hunched his shoulders, leaning closer to Marco's face. “If you try hard enough, you can do it!” He resisted the urge to grab Marco by the shoulders, knowing his hands would slip through and the unpleasant feeling of the dead would invade his limbs once more. “Even if you can't pick it up, just remember where it is! I'll come by later and take everything.”

Marco fidgeted under Jean's stare but did not lower his gaze. “But what does this have to do with Mina?”

“It has _everything_ to do with Mina.” Jean's hands found purchase on his hips, teeth nervously chewing on his tongue. “I really hope I'm wrong, though. Because if I'm right, then Mina's practically in hell and we're the only ones who know.”

“She could always be like Eren.” Marco tilted back, unknowingly floating in place as he kept his attention focused on the medium. “She might be a titan, too. She just didn't get caught.”

“If she's with _that_ woman, then she's probably… Ugh, I don't even want to consider it. I hate dealing with this kind of thing.” Jean's voice rose with a whining tone, hands slipping back up to tug at his hair as he dropped his eyes to the floor. “This is a medium thing. I hate medium things. But I can't contact my dad, and I don't know if there are any others in the Scouting Legion…”

“Considering the amount of dead on the base, there should be.”

“No, a huge amount of dead means there _isn't._ If there were, then a lot of the dead would be gone.” Jean sighed. “We're supposed to lead them forward or banish them if they won't go willingly. I'm on my _own_ for this, _shit_ —”

“You have me,” Marco supplied helpfully. “Just fill me in and I can help.”

Jean blanched, cringing as he weighed the option out in his head. “You would be the least helpful thing on a job like this. No offense.”

Marco furrowed his brow and crossed his arms in offense. “I wouldn't know unless you told me what's happening.”

“It's kind of a weird subject. But it's happened to me before so I have a _little_ experience.” Jean hated the mere idea of saying it out loud. He felt the disgust crawl in his skin. He could still remember every second of _last time_ , of the horror deep in his bones as he realized what had happened and that he would have to face it alone.

Marco looked expectant, though, and Jean knew no matter how much he protested he would be getting help.

“Marco, what do you know about possession?”

 

* * *

 

When Levi found Eren, he was blindfolded and feeling bits of hair in the mess hall.

His brow furrowed in thought, fingers lightly brushing a swatch of reddish brown hair in his book as a flash of realization hit him. “Sasha.” Hanji supplied a cheery 'Correct, Eren!' as Eren's head whipped around to the new footsteps in the room. “Hello, Captain.”

Levi grunted in response, not in the slightest mood to put up with Eren after his little _chat_ with Arlert the previous night. He was lucky enough to have Hanji distract Eren the ride back, but he knew he couldn't keep relying on that to keep the seer away. He took careful note to slip into the chair furthest away from Eren.

“Oooh, you knew it was him just from his footsteps?” Hanji smiled in Levi’s direction, wiggling her eyebrows in a way that ensured Levi would kick her later.

“Kinda.” Eren shrugged. The blindfold stayed in place, but under Eren's shaggy hair, it wasn't difficult to detect his expression shifting in thought. “It felt like him.”

“Good to know you can feel people when they walk through doors,” Levi muttered. “Just slap you as a door greeter for formal events.” Eren grinned at the joke, fingers skittering to lightly tug at the cloth over his eyes. His lips twisted in minor agitation.

“Can I take this off now? Having stuff near my eyes is uncomfortable.”

Hanji clutched her research notebook and whined. "But the teeests—”

“I've gone over everyone at least three times!” Eren's shoulders tilted down, one hand still tugging the blindfold with attempts to separate the material from his eyelids. “Don't the results speak for themselves? Or…whatever it is that research stuff does?”

Hanji made a noncommittal “eh” noise, waving her hand in the air before realizing Eren couldn't see the gesture. To make up for the mistake, she rose out of her chair to reach across the table and yank the blindfold away from Eren's head. The brunet blinked at the sudden intrusion of light, focusing on the older soldier as she settled back into her seat and began going over the recorded data. Levi watched with his usual blank expression. “Well, at first you were failing pretty badly. It took at least two tries to sort out who you were sampling.”

Eren shrugged, eyes rolling back as if to see his thoughts hovering over his skull. “I've only ever kept two hair samples before.”

Hanji made a small note on the page, nodding in earnest. “And you could recognize them both before touching. Is that normal for you?”

“I guess? Maybe? I remember being able to tell which one of my parents was the one entering the house, but I don't think it's—”

“That's amazing!” Hanji began scribbling earnestly, biting her lip and allowing a giggle of excitement to pass her lips. “Reading people without touch is an amazing skill— I thought only fortune tellers did that sort of thing and they were always shams!”

“Most of them are,” Eren scoffed, scowling. “I heard about them all the time— Any good fortune teller knows going public is a bad idea. It's one of those skills that's really delicate, like surgery. You can't just ask for a copper and start popping out bullshit.” He neglected to mention he had done the hokey fortunes in training to gain extra food. But in that case he didn't even bother to check visions. He just made things up on the spot. Humans would believe anything sometimes.

“Personal experience?” Hanji asked sympathetically.

“No. Lesson from Mom. Fortune telling is a branch of seer work that not everyone is really cut out for. It's really spiritual and stuff.” Eren could remember the yellowed pages of his mother's books outlining stars and their meanings. He wasn't a spiritual person, and his mother had known, but she had explained it with such careful detail that Eren knew it was probably her life's work outside helping his father with patients. Honestly, he had a special place in his heart for it.

“I don't see how.” Levi rested his head on his hand in boredom. “Just touch someone and there: fortune.”

“That's a vision, not a fortune.” Eren's expression took one of personal offense, a pout trying to work its way to his features. “A vision is worthless. We see thousands over our lifetimes. But a fortune? It's not easy to get one, and paying for one is just as difficult.”

“No coppers for future stuff. Got it.” Hanji continued her writing, gnawing the eraser of her pencil to Levi's disgust. He personally vowed never to borrow any writing utensil from her. Ever. “But paying you in shiny things for tests is fine, right?”

“More than fine.” Eren's pout melted into a smile.

“You're paying him?” Levi's head whipped around Hanji's hunched over body, staring her down as she refused to halt her eraser chewing. “You shouldn't be paying him; he's a goddamn cadet under supervision.”

“He's more open to my tests if I give him shiny things.” Hanji shrugged. Eren lifted one hand with a grin to prove her statement, gladly showing off the oversized ring dangling from his middle finger.

Levi promptly stood, marched over, and snatched Eren's hand to give the ring a closer inspection. Large, silver, coated in small shiny gems in some stupid emblem from Sina that Levi recognized from pointless awards at banquets.

“…this is Erwin's.”

“Meh, he won't care.” Hanji waved off the statement as if it was nothing. Her jewelry theft was probably equated to borrowing a cup of flour on her moral compass. Levi couldn't help but note that she was _right_ — Erwin wouldn't care in the least if he realized the ring was gone. The man hated flashy accessories.

Levi then realized he was still holding Eren's hand, and Eren was smiling as if all was right with the world. Armin's speech from the previous night came back like a nightmare and Levi released the hand to (lightly) smack Eren upside the head.

“Stop accepting bribes.”

Eren's eyes shot down to the ring, admiring its glitter with a fascinated awe. “But, sir, it's so shiny…”

Levi's eyes narrowed. Did he seriously just use that as an argument? Who the hell let this child in the military? “That's an order.”

Eren's awe faded and he sat rigidly in his seat, eager to please. “Yessir!”

Hanji's grumble went almost ignored. “Way to ruin my fun, Levi.” His scowl didn't affect her when he shot it her way, but she perked back up once she ran her fingers over the data in her research one final time. “Oh, Eren, I forgot to ask: did any of the visions you received today seem unusual? Or did the amount overwhelm you?”

“I can remember them all,” Eren assured. He hummed in thought for a moment, tapping his finger against the table before replying. “Actually, someone showed up in more than one person's.”

Hanji tapped her pencil against the page. “We live on a base, Eren. We're likely to interact with the same people.”

“This is different. It feels like…” Eren's hands moved to try and form a gesture for explanation but couldn't seem to do much other than grasp empty air. “Do you remember the sample I could tell? Apart from Armin and Mikasa?”

“J. K.”

“Right. I can tell it's his because before touching it, it feels…cold. Not _cold_ cold— If he felt icy cold, he'd be dead. But it's like a shiver.” Eren grimaced. “It's really unpleasant. But the person in the other visions…he feels cold, too.”

“Are you sure he isn't included in the sample list?” Hanji reached for Eren's hair book, flipping through the pages and reading over the names one more time. Levi unleashed a shiver of his own seeing the hair glued down to the pages. He _knew_ Eren didn't wash it before putting it in; there must have been so much dander or lice or mites in the dirty samples—

“I'm sure. I've never seen him before.” Eren shook his head. “This guy… He looks right into my eyes every time, and it feels like the room drops twenty degrees.”

Hanji began to wring her hands in interest, leaning forward with theories already on the tip of her tongue. “Maybe he's going to die, and you can tell. Wouldn't that be a cruel gift? Seeing death dates without knowing the person—”

“That's not how it works. Sometimes I can get some kind of emotion, but a reading on another person _inside_ the vision? That shouldn't be possible.”

Levi unleashed a snort, making his way back over to a chair just outside of Eren's touching zone. “Kid, you can turn into a fifteen meter monster by biting yourself.”

Eren absorbed his words with ease. “You have a point, sir.”

“So what's the guy look like?” Hanji gripped her pencil tightly, smiling as she flipped to a new page in her notes. “Tell me everything. Maybe if we find him, he'll provide interesting data.”

“Um…tall. Thin. Rounded face, kinda youthful, but he's definitely an adult.” Eren's eyes drifted upward to draw the details from memory. Every few seconds he would squint before seeming to settle on an answer. “Really pale skin, but everything else is dark. Dark eyes, dark hair, dark clothes— His coat looked expensive. And he wears glasses.”

Hanji stopped writing. Her head lifted, and her eyes met Levi's from across the table. Despite their constant arguments and clear lack of formality with their positions, sometimes the two of them could reach an agreement that they intended to follow through on no matter the cost. This was one of those times.

There was no way they would allow _that_ asshole around the only good asset the Scouting Legion had, even _if_ he donated the most money.

“Um, why'd you stop? Do you know who it is?”

“It's nothing after all, Eren.”

“But—”

“Nothing.”

 

* * *

 

Nile's job was a difficult one, and one that was causing him to age much more rapidly than anyone else in his graduating class. Save Erwin. But Erwin was some kind of bastard who could retain his looks through leading the deadliest faction of the military, so that was probably witchcraft to the highest degree. Fuck him. Fuck Erwin Smith.

Nile's job included wrangling up officers who were too lazy to do their jobs, ordering cadets who took theirs too seriously, smoothing over public relations with angry citizens, keeping the peace—

“NILE! My amazing, favorite, special bag of horse excrement, how _have_ you been?”

—…and inevitably dealing with nobles who thought they were above the law and could do whatever they wanted. That part of the job was what he hated the most. They usually _did_ get to do whatever they wanted. Nile's optimism for his branch had faded long ago, but deep down there was still anger at the pompous behavior he had to deal with on a daily basis. But the overwhelming urge to punch this particular example of high class snobbery in the face had been smothered before, and he would continue to do so today. Maybe when he retired, he could finally get that one hit in. He imagined it would feel so satisfying.

The fantasy of breaking teeth was all that kept him calm through his current conversation. He had been cornered as he left his meeting, taking a shortcut through one of the castle's gardens in hopes of solitude so he could think. Then he had been blindsided; he had forgotten King Fritz's throne room had an exit that led this direction. He was unfortunate enough to be there the same day as a man he knew would make the ulcer developing in his stomach worse. But Nile was a man who believed in representing his department and leading by example. So he would pull through. If barely. “Lord Grimm. How _good_ it is to see you gracing these halls again.”

Lord Grimm chuckled lowly, folding his hands behind his back as his steps matched with Nile's. Outside the walkway, the gardens of the castle swayed in the summer breeze, sending petals in through the window. Nile silently wondered how the man could stand walking around in a black coat in this weather. He always dressed as if someone had died.

“I have to wonder: why are you here to see King Fritz, Commander?” Lord Grimm's deep voice seemed to drip with honey, amusement tickling his words. In the seven or so years since he had assumed control of the Grimm estate, the man only seemed to maintain relationships through mutual antagonizing. He also knew he could get away with more and that freedom was regularly abused.

“I'm delivering reports,” Nile bit back.

“Oh, playing messenger boy. I see.” The laugh wasn't let out, but it was obviously tucked in just to provoke Nile.

Nile gritted his teeth. So Lord Grimm wanted to play? Fine. Nile would play back. “Why are _you_ here, Lord Grimm? I thought you were on retreat. Did His Majesty need you that badly?”

Lord Grimm's smile melted, his sharp eyes quickly turning to silent fury. Nile bit back a grin. It was no secret that this lord hated his job more than Nile hated his. Lord Grimm’s lip curled in disgust before the smile carefully reformed. This time his words were wound tight, almost breaking. “Well, Fritz demanded his best advisor to come talk things over. He was most displeased over the outcome of the Jaeger boy's trial.”

Nile's attitude darkened even more—if that was even a possibility, considering Lord Grimm had the innate talent to drive people to jump out windows—at the memory of the trial. It was _humiliating_ crawling home afterwards with no victory, knowing that freak of nature was free and being used by the craziest human beings the military had to offer.

_Fuck Erwin Smith._

“I can imagine.”

Lord Grimm smiled brightly, knowing he had hit a nerve. “How does it feel, by the way? Knowing you couldn't even get your hands on a fifteen-year-old? I was there by the way, in the back. I needed to lean against the wall to laugh after the short Scout started kicking him in the face.” He began to chuckle harder, wheezing out a few short giggles. His glasses, forever perched low on his nose to read comfortably, began to slide too low for safety. “Did you see  _the look on his face_? He never saw the boot coming!”

Nile, once again reminding himself he was not allowed to punch the nobility no matter how tempting, merely settled for distancing himself from the man a few inches as he fell into a laughing fit.

“And the look on _your_ face! I wish I had a portrait maker, because your expression was worth all the gold in Sina.”

“You're too easily amused, Lord Grimm,” Nile choked out. He was beginning to reach his limit. No one in Sina could spend more than ten minutes around this man without either crying or erupting in anger. He wondered what ever happened to the previous head of the Grimm family. The little dark haired fourteen-year-old. She was a quiet girl whose only negative quality was having a creepy stare— He'd give anything to have that back instead of _this_. He hadn't realized just how often he had to converse with nobles until he suddenly had to share air with this poor excuse of a human at social gatherings.

Lord Grimm laughed even harder, slapping a bony hand on Nile's shoulder as if they didn't hate each other. Nile shivered as a sudden cold seeped through his jacket. No matter the time of year, the man's hands felt like ice. “Nile, Nile, Nile… One of these days, you really must use my first name. We've known each other, what, seven years now?”

Nile gently pushed the icy fingers away. “Seven years too many, Lord Grimm.”

“Again. First name. It's _Azrael_. Lord Grimm sounds so fussy. I've known you since before you became Commander.”

Nile was saved from the horrid conversation when a messenger's quick feet suddenly began echoing down the cobblestones of their path. Lord Grimm frowned when his head turned to see their face. Nile recognized the pale haired girl as one of Lord Grimm’s servants. The one with the soft voice and doll face. The rich bastard always seemed to have a circle of servants following him everywhere.

Lord Grimm sounded displeased by her sudden arrival, but his words lacked the venom he used when speaking with Nile. “What? Why would you possibly interrupt me when I'm tormenting a dear friend?”

The girl shifted her feet, glancing at Nile before leaning to cup her hand and whisper in her master's ear. Lord Grimm's expression changed from annoyance to…

Well then.

That was the first time Nile had seen “surprise” on his face. Ever.

“Are you sure?” His voice was as soft as hers now. Nile had no idea the man could sound that way without mockery.

“Yessir. The report just came from the south. It's her.”

Lord Grimm nodded and then stood to full height before settling his expression back into the stony glare it always carried. “Nile, it seems some business has come up. We'll continue this later. Try not to drown in the filth of pigs before we meet again.”

Nile curled his lips, grateful he was rid of the man. “Likewise.” He watched them set off in the opposite direction, muscles still tense with the urge to hit something, before making his way out. Maybe he could punish some new cadets. There were a few in Stohess he knew needed to be broken in anyway.

Once the human was safely out of earshot, Azrael turned to his servant. “Are you absolutely positive it's her? We had a false alarm with Ilse. I don't want to go through that again.”

“We're sure, sir.” The servant nodded. “It's Ymir. She's alive and in the Scouting Legion.”

Azrael frowned, a swell rising in his chest. Like a flame that had long been flickering was suddenly given fuel. How long had she been in the walls? Ah, but the time for questions was later. Now he had a job to do. He quickly smothered the hope choking his throat up and assumed his professional persona.  “Assemble the infiltration team. Is our mole still safe in the Legion's base?”

“Yessir. He's kept vigilant watch.”

“Have him double his reports.” Azrael pushed his glasses farther up his nose. The entrance to the garden was coming up in their path, the mossy gargoyle atop the pillars rearing its ugly maw at them both. “And check on Mina, will you? Our newest recruit needs to be up to date by the time the Scouts leave for their expedition.”

“Will do, sir.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you guys know Azrael looks and sounds like Kyoya from Ouran Host Club. Two years ago I was watching the dub and just about died when the connection was made. J Michael Tatum's been my headcanon voice for Azzy ever since. 
> 
> As always don't forget to leave a comment, kudos, and be sure to ask questions! I love curious readers. Visit me @shingeki-no-unicorns.tumblr.com


	12. Amicum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The funny thing about old friends is that they have a way of finding you again. 
> 
> Mostly in the worst way at the worst time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...
> 
> Okay
> 
> I am so so so so so sorry this took so long. 
> 
> The thing is, OC interaction is scary to me. I used to do a lot of it in fic and I was comfortable with it but no one liked it. So when it came time to have plot relevant interaction I froze and wanted to delete it all. But without it the chapter was puny and pathetic. So I finally decided 'fuck it, I'll finish this and hope for the best'. As long as I keep the focus on canon characters and keep everything else plot related. 
> 
> I've found this fandom is actually pretty chill with original characters as long as they're relevant. So I'll try my best. And if my best is terrible I'll try to fix it. 
> 
> In other news merry late Christmas and happy early New Year. I hope everyone had a pleasant holiday. Instead of a new computer I got a bike.

_Excerpt from_ “The Studies of the Paranormal: Private Investigative Journals from the Desk of C. Inocendio _,_ ” _published year 825 from Monthly Fantasy Tales, Stohess Press._

  _Note from the publisher: Reminder to readers that this is a work of_ fiction _, and information taken from the pages of this novel is not to be taken as true._

**Possession ( _Latin: teneo_ ):** _to own; to have ownership of; to_ possess _as one’s own belonging_

**Possession** _is an event in which a being higher than that of humanity (see_ **spirit** ; **daemon** _) assumes control of the mind or body to communicate or perform an action with or without the consent of the afflicted. Possession has been present in lore from the start of time. As far back as current history goes, possession was previously an excuse to forgive crimes ranging from assault to unexplained pregnancy in unmarried women. In modern courts and proper society, the notion is widely disbelieved and any poor fool who seeks to use the excuse is promptly charged with insanity._

_Possession is now treated largely as a trick for parties in the elite of Sina. The Medium (see chapter on Second Sight) will contact a spirit of the departed and give express consent for their bodies to come under the control of the ethereal entity, allowing communication among those present until the spirit is expelled. A direct result is always the medium in question vomiting_ **ectoplasm** _, a substance formed by a spirit’s attempt to interact with the material world. It is described as slimy and black by those who have felt this particular bile in their throats._

_Possession outside summonings and séances is a different matter altogether. Forceful possession is a kidnapping of the mind and body, a violation far greater than any human could perform on one another._

_In my years of study, I have seen many of these cases, and many of them end very poorly for the victim. The spirit inside acts as a leech. In many cases the victim has no recollection of events from the point of possession onward, but stronger beings have a tendency to allow their victim sentience. It has been described as the worst kind of torture. Seeing and feeling your body move and perform actions that you yourself are not wishing for. A complete absence of sense of self. It is a method of true torture and I pity those who have befallen it._

_Possession, however, does come with physical symptoms. This can be detrimental to sorting out who may be possessed, for how long, and if the condition is reversible at all. Victims may dive into poor health following the initial act. Spirits and daemons are infamous for neglecting proper care to their vessels. Skipped mealtimes, injuries with no medical attention, and in some cases people deliberately injuring themselves purely to feel the sensation of pain. The eyes may lose shine and refuse to focus. The limbs may jolt as if controlled by puppet strings (a low level symptom only; stronger beings assume very direct control)._

_To those with Second Sight, possession symptoms are much more blatant. Mediums are the ideal spiritual helpers to call should the situation desire it. The victim may display alternating eye colors, a shift in facial features, or voice disposition in manners that cannot be replicated with human vocal chords._

_Those who are adept at the art of aura reading (see chapter on Fortune Telling) describe possession victims to be surrounded by a dark abyss. The feeling of coldness chills the air around them. Depending on the entity inflicting the condition, this may change. Several reports claim daemons cause a lack of an aura completely; only a sense of anger and bloodlust remains. There are older reports speaking of voices of angels possessing humans to give messages from God, of a feeling of lightness to invade the body and to make the heart feel whole._

_Such reports are completely false. See chapter on Religious Lore to learn more about angels. Another report to note as false is the notion only live people can be taken victim. As a matter of fact, corpses are more likely to suffer (though not as much as those with Second Sight, as their third eye is a portal to their minds) due to their lack of a living spirit to fight for control. Possessed corpses are possibly the least human, and more information can be found in the chapter on The Undead._

_Cure for the condition:_

_Possession can be cured with several variations of the same ritual: exorcism._

_Please note that all exorcisms must be performed by a trained medium or professional, as an untrained individual welcomes the offending entity to cause havoc and move from one host to the next with more freedom. It is a delicate operation that requires much skill and patience._

_Exorcisms should ideally be performed within the first week of contact. The longer the offender stays, the harder it will be to banish. And the more exorcisms performed on a human body, the less chance there is to survive. See next chapter for details on exorcisms and the various methods that they can be performed._

* * *

 

 

**Trost**

**Five Years Previous**

**Pre Fall of Maria**

 

 

It had become almost habit to snatch his sketching papers and run to the house down the street when he was having a bad day.

Days when his father insisted on teaching him the trade of the family, days when his mother looked over him carefully like he was glass, days when the children from his meager schoolhouse teased and pointed and laughed. They called his family crazy. They called him fat. They called him stupid. He hated the lot of them, really, and the few friends he managed to make weren't enough to quell the resentment boiling in his stomach and seeping into his bones.

There was Lucy, the nice girl whose family ran an apothecary and supplied his father with herbs and ward supplies. There was Hansel, the awkward tall reed who withstood more teasing than him because his clothes never fit. There was even Gregor, a child younger than him by a year but always stood outside the schoolhouse when class was over so he could coerce Jean and company to play with him. But none of them really could help with his situation. Lucy knew what he was—her family had been supplying his for generations and withstood accusations of being witches time and time again. (And if Lucy really could make plants grow by whispering to them, Jean never said a word). Lucy hadn't  _experienced_ it, though. She didn't know what his life was like. They were more awkward companions bound together because they were shunned.

The only person who seemed to understand was years older than him and always willing to listen. His father, who  _should_ have been this person in Jean's opinion, never seemed to realize how afraid his powers made him. How dangerous he saw the world through his inhuman eyes. How he wanted nothing more than to be normal. His father thought the gift to be a blessing and assumed teaching Jean more about it would help.

So Jean sought out the only other medium he knew instead.

Even if her way with words and emotions was god awful.

“Oi, the fuck are you doing here? I don't get paid to babysit.”

Jean had been doodling on spare paper for who-knew-how-long on the front stoop of the midwife's house. The crass tones of his closest friend(?) sent his graphite out of his fingers and his head shooting up to try and meet perpetually snarky eyes. “Hi, Miss Dion.”

Miss Dion was, on record, the  _only_ other medium Jean knew lived in Trost. One that shared his attitude in the sense that the burdens of the deceased shouldn't rest on his shoulders at his age. She was rude and blunt and spoke her mind even if she offended everyone in the room. Which meant she was one of the most disliked people in the neighborhood. And for that, ten year old Jean truly admired her.

Unlike the other boys, who only admired her because her breasts happened to be very large.

Okay, he'd be lying if he said he didn't appreciate that, too. But he was smart enough not to tell her to her face.

“Did your old man try his heart to heart shit again?” Miss Dion dusted off the apron over her dress, Jean noticing for the first time that her arms and lap were  _coated_ in blood, before tightening her ponytail and sitting next to him on the step. “Was it the undead lesson? Because I'm telling you now, all you need is a head shot and they're  _down_.”

“No,” Jean grumbled, shuffling away from the moist stains on the apron. “Gross, you're covered in blood.”

The immediate answer was given in complete deadpan. “Breaking news: babies coming out their mom's hoo-haw cause lots of bleeding. More at eleven.” Miss Dion untied the apron, turning the item to a clean spot to wipe her arms free of bodily fluids. “To be fair, today it was a set of twins. Old broad was a slave driver the entire time.”

Jean  _tched_. “I could hear her from my classroom. I don't know why you put up with it.”

Miss Dion shrugged, an exaggerated lip purse mocking his sentiment. “It's my job, kid. If my master commands it, I do it no matter what.” Her shoulder dropped, eyes glancing to the sketch on Jean's lap. Jagged teeth and googly eyes stared back. “So it wasn't your dad today?”

“It kinda was. He wanted to talk about burial rites but I told him I was tired.” Jean shifted the paper, glancing over his doodles to search out mistakes. He found many. “It was George. Again.”

“That little asshole?” Miss Dion gripped the steps and leaned back, gazing at the sky. “What did he do today?”

“Same old. Called me crazy. Called my family crazy. Called Lucy a witch. Threw rocks.” Jean angrily kicked a pebble, sending it skittering down the steps. Miss Dion hummed. “I just don't get it. Why does he have to be such an ass? I never said a word to him and he picks on me every day.”

“Because humanity is inherently flawed. Everyone's an asshole.” Miss Dion leaned back more, supporting her weight with her arms. “Listen, kid, I could have some heartfelt talk about acceptance and feelings but we both know that isn't gonna happen. I'm just gonna tell you up front: fuck that kid.”

“I know—”

“No, you don't. You hate him, but you haven't truly decided 'fuck that kid' yet. Fuck him. Fuck his friends. Fuck anyone who agrees with him. But not literally.” Jean was puzzled at that, his ten-year-old brain not catching the euphemism. “You tell him to fuck off, tell his friends to fuck off, and you go on and do what you want because their shitty attitudes don't control your life.”

Jean blinked dumbly down at her. “Is that what happened to you?”

Miss Dion shrugged nonchalantly. “My parents sold me to my fiancé for a cow. Long story short, I got the fuck out of there and here I am. The world can suck my dick and I am completely at peace.”

Jean thought the words over, crossing his arms and perching his elbows on his knees. He chose to ignore the crude illogical fallacy. He had long since passed the point where he would poke holes in her expressions. “…I don't think I could, though. Not with dead people talking to me in class.”

“You need to find a way to deal, man.” Miss Dion slowly sat up, stretching and reaching for the ever-present wavy bit of hair that escaped her ponytail. “Have you tried,  _maybe,_ talking back?”

“No! I don't want anything to do with them!” Jean shot up, papers crumbling to the steps in a mess, and turned to clench his fists and stare the older woman down with fury in his eyes. “Not after what they did to me!”

The blonde was nonplussed. “And your reaction is valid. I remember when _I_  started to see these things. It was scary and I didn't know what to do.”

Jean scowled and redirected his gaze to his drawings, scattered. “You weren't even born with your powers. How do you get them to go away?”

“I don't. I deal with them. Exorcise them, ward them off, send them to someone experienced like your dad.” Miss Dion made a trailing motion with her hand, as if to say “…and so on and so on.” “You can't spend your teenage years being a little bitch about it. If you grow up and it's still a problem, you might wanna move somewhere with less spirits.”

Jean's eyes widened. “There are places with less of them? Like, they aren't constantly following people?”

Miss Dion, still relaxed, started twirling her hair around her finger. “Sina. Rich people can afford proper burials and most of the troubled dead are in the slums. The normal housing usually has next to nothing. Few friendly old housewives who make the walls creak, but they don't bother people.”

Jean smiled. The idea of going deeper in the walls, where there was more food and opportunity and everyone was important, was like a dream. But the fact it had less troublesome dead? That sounded like a godsend. “Do you think I could make it there?”

“Fuck no.”

Jean's face fell. “What!? Why not?”

“You're a big squishy pushover.” Miss Dion laughed. She stood, gathering her stained apron, before ruffling his hair in the way he absolutely hated. “They'd eat you alive.”

“I'll find a way!”

“Suuuure. And then I'll wear a ball gown and kiss ass like a lady.”

“Shut up!”

“Not for you,  _Jeanbo_.”

  

* * *

 

Jean did not actually remember his first encounter with possession. Which was normal. The last thing he remembered, he had been in his room, searching for his charcoal pencils, idly wondering if his mother had any spare paper. Then the world had gone dark. 

When he opened his eyes again, he was greeted by a sight that gave him nightmares for years afterwards. 

His knees were scratched all to hell, bloody and stinging and leaving little droplets on the floor and the hems of his trousers. His nails were aching, several threatening to fall off, bloody scratch marks surrounding his small body on the floorboards. There was a black sludge bubbling its way up in his throat—when it forced itself out of him, he was disgusted to find more of it already seeping into the grains of the wood or splattering on his shirt.

There was a horrible screeching in his ears. Gods, the screeching. His ear drums wanted to pop; they wanted to bleed and ooze and end their misery even if it cost him the ability to ever hear again. 

The chalk outline on the floor was what he noticed last, the edges and the carefully drawn symbols (passed down family member by family member, his father had said; it was such a source of pride) ending near his father's feet, where he preached and howled and waved his hands, a smoking sac of herbs in hand as he did his best to drive away the horrible dark cloud hovering over Jean's body. 

The cloud was there, but also not. It had its hands on Jean and he could not move. He could feel the tears running down his cheeks, he could feel the blood pouring from his nose at the sheer overstimulation, and he just  _couldn't move_. 

The entire experience was so clear, but also contained the fuzzy edges of a dream. If asked, he would say he did not know if the event had actually happened. From the numbness in his body, he could claim it was only a fever dream.

When all was said and done, when  _whatever_ it was finally left, Jean was told he had lost three days of his life. The thing that had worn his body as a suit was powerful enough to fool his parents for days. That scared him more than anything. The idea of no one even noticing he wasn't  _himself_. It scared him more than he could ever admit. He never did admit it, avoiding his parents’ gazes on the subject, and informed his father he felt fine; he was recovering perfectly normal; there was nothing to worry about. 

It was an obvious lie but that wound had healed now. It had healed ugly and disfigured and wrong, but it was healed and he did not feel like opening it again anytime soon. 

Jean's next encounters with the subject had not been any prettier. It always came with blood. Blood and a deep sense of guilt and personal violation. The most recent had been in the training camp, in their first year, and all those involved were sworn to secrecy and pretended the incident had never occurred. 

Namely just himself, Eren, and surprisingly Annie. 

Annie had been the one to call his attention to it. She had elbowed him in the arm during morning drills with a scowl and jerked her head in Eren's direction. “Is something wrong with him?” 

“How the hell should I know?” Jean had asked. It was still in the early days of their rivalry, when his affections for Mikasa were high enough for Eren's name to provoke instant animosity. Looking back, he saw how stupid it all was. “And why do you care?” 

Annie only shrugged, giving another glance in Eren's direction as he quietly went about checking his gear over before putting it on. “He's acting extra creepy.” Annie gave one last look, a minute squint at Eren's form, before leaving. Jean shook off the encounter with every intention of forgetting it. Eren? Creepy? He was always creepy. Eren’s good natured attitude could be replaced with manic fury in mere seconds, one switch flipped him to speeches about mankind's war against the titans and one could feel the bloodlust radiate off of him in waves. He had tormented the mess hall more than once just by talking at his own table. 

Eren being creepy was no real news, and Annie was just paranoid. That had been Jean’s final verdict. 

But then Eren had spoken to him. His body language was off, much more loose and relaxed, an easygoing expression where anger usually reigned supreme. His voice had made every alarm in Jean's head ring louder than ever. It had turned all his bones to ice. Eren had looked at him, no animosity present, and with a smile, greeted his training companion for the day. 

“͙͓͎̪͈M͉͈̣̪͍̤o̬̬̗̜̺̰r̳̹̲͙̝n̺̫̪͎͚̱͉in̰͖̘̺̣g͍͕̫̪̳̥, ̳̘̪̥͓ͅJe͈a̤̜̬̘͕͎n̫̲.̬͕̫͈̯ͅ” 

The rest of the day had been spent having a nervous breakdown and avoiding any form of eye contact with Eren. Annie stared Eren down with scrutinizing distrust (or maybe that was her usual face, no one could tell), keeping her eyes focused on the back of his head. Eren had asked Ymir to watch his gear for a moment during lunch only for her to copy Annie. The taller girl had backed away and steered Christa to follow. 

Jean couldn't tell if they saw or heard what he did, but slowly other people began to notice Eren was too cheerful to be normal. 

And Jean noticed he was the only medium in the camp. 

Which meant he could either deal with the issue himself, or let whatever it was do whatever it wanted and face a mourning Mikasa when Eren's body gave out. 

The resulting exorcism, performed with completely amateur methods and even less training in a secluded part of camp after dinner, was incredibly messy. There had been a knife involved. And death threats. And choking. And Annie stumbling upon Jean carrying Eren's half-dead form back to the bunks. 

All three of them agreed never to talk about it again, and that was that. 

In between these two incidents, however, was the one causing havoc in Jean's mind at the moment. His first experience had been horrifying. His third, anxiety-inducing. The second… The second had been the defining moment of his life in Trost, the one that set him up to be who he was today. 

That moment was lovingly put into the pages in front of him, describing in detail the gory events that took place mere weeks before Maria fell. 

The Midwife Murder, had it not been for the titan invasion, would have been the biggest news story in the southern half of the walls. Not because of shock value or scandal, but because there was next to nothing about it. It was a story passed by every gossip and drunk as a conversational piece. The case remained unsolved, the details sketchy at best, and in Trost there were still whispers about who it may have been. The story had briefly made its rounds through the southern districts, so most adults knew the broad information on the case. Marco had remembered enough to know exactly what Jean had asked for. (He did comment it was rather hard finding it, since the Scouting Legion only seemed to keep records relating to supplies and expeditions.)

Unfortunately, Marco still could not make things move on his own, so during lunch, Jean was required to sneak bread in his jacket pocket and make his way to the records room. Marco pointed out all the clear records he could find pertaining to the case. Jean had taken them, marked their place, and spread them on a table. 

Now between the two of them, came the real work. 

Unfortunately, the room wasn't completely empty. In another section, a senior officer was working his way through death certificates and officer records. One glance was enough for Jean to recognize him as Lieutenant Zacharius, forcing their operation to move to a secluded table behind a shelf. Jean kept his voice to the lowest whisper he could manage. 

“We don't have long, so let's get some work done as soon as possible. You know about the Midwife Murder case, right?” Marco nodded. “The woman you saw with Mina was involved in it. The house the family lived in was just down the street from mine.” 

Marco frowned, eyes turning sympathetic. “Wait, the murder was on your street? That sounds awful!”

Jean waved the exclamation off. He was used to hearing it. All of Trost sent their pity to the residents of his neighborhood before refugees had come along and turned pity to anger. “The thing is, the case is still unsolved. The official verdict is three dead and one missing. The missing person was the midwife's assistant. A nineteen-year-old girl.” Jean tugged a newspaper from the pile, spreading the pages open. A rough sketch of the woman in question was neatly tucked under a larger charcoal rendition of police at the scene. “The midwife and her family were all stabbed to death. Fatal hits. The son suffered a more brutal attack. The house was completely trashed and several valuables were missing.”

“Sounds like a basic robbery,” Marco murmured. “But it wasn't, was it?” 

“I'm pretty sure the family was murdered because the assistant was possessed,” Jean admitted. He had never said the words out loud before, never let the thought gain a solid enough form to leave his head. There was a small weight coming off his shoulders. He wasn't sure whether or not he should be glad for it. “She wouldn't do that kind of thing.” He paused and reconsidered his words. “Okay, no, she probably would hurt someone for looking at her funny. She was a bitch. But I knew her, I talked to her— She was the only other medium in town. She wouldn't do this.” 

“That doesn't sound like enough evidence to support possession.” Marco turned, craning his head to read the details on the aged paper. 

“That's not all. Mediums are more likely to attract stuff like this. We're magnets. And she wasn't  _born_ with it either—she was flying blind. It would be too easy. She was kind of an ass and really vulgar but murder… I could never see her doing that.” Jean sighed, choosing not to finish the thought shoving itself to the forefront of his mind.

_But I did._

“Five years ago, this girl here was possessed, killed her boss and the boss's family, and ran off,” Marco rattled off. His eyes remained focused on the picture in the paper. “And now she has Mina. Which…doesn't make much sense.”

“These things never make sense,” Jean moped. “I gave up trying to understand years ago. But considering Armin saw Mina  _die,_ we're left with two options. Your titan theory—” 

“Which has more plausibility than this, honestly,” Marco mumbled. 

“—and the possession theory. Considering how frustrating possession is, I'd actually rather deal with the titan thing.” Jean shivered. The titans and their destruction would haunt his memory, make him fear far worse than his experience with spirits ever did. But possession was one thing he would pray never to undergo again. Facing death in the form of a giant was one thing. It was another to throw himself at beings that could use his body as a puppet to do anything they wanted. They had the choice to care for their meat suit or dispose of it once they were done. Nine times out of ten they just used the body until it gave out or rotted from the inside. 

The fact  _she_  was still walking around proved something was highly unusual. 

The idea that maybe she  _wasn't_ possessed after all and a childhood friend of his was a murderer just wasn't an option he wanted to consider. 

_Especially since you lied to the police about what you saw._

Jean sighed, gathering up the papers Marco had been looking over. He couldn't regret it now. He had made his choice. Now he just had to deal with the consequences. He had done it in Trost with his fellow trainees and he could do it again now.

“So whatever this woman is doing, Mina might be involved…” Marco rubbed at his chin, thinking over everything as his form began to hover just an inch over the floor. Jean didn't point this out as Marco's body language relaxed considerably. “She mentioned she would still be in town for a few days. Before going to Sina.”

“Then we have a limited time frame.” Jean glanced to the clock ticking away by the door and blanched when he discovered lunch was coming to an end soon. He hadn't even tried to eat yet. “You think you can wander the city, try to find her?” 

“I can.” Marco tested the words with uncertainty. “But I can't guarantee I'll find anything.”

“Doesn't matter. It'll be a start. Just try to find out where they're staying.” Jean folded up several papers and began to tuck them in his jacket pocket. “Before they go to Sina,  _maybe_ we can sort all of this out.”

Marco spared another glance at the papers, fixating his attention on the drawings. “All right. I'll do it.”

Jean gave a half-smile, one that really didn't reach his eyes, and finished gathering up the papers that he had spread. “I guess I'll take some of these to look at later. Maybe there's something here that'll help clear things up. Good luck with your side of the work.” 

Marco gave a soft smile. “You too.” Jean seemed to return it briefly before he separated the papers, picking up one stack to return to their spots. One yellowed piece fluttered to the ground as he made his way back to the filing cabinet. “You dropped one.”

Jean tucked the papers back, craning his head before bending over to pick up the paper. His expression turned confused as he turned it over in his hands. “This isn't about the case.” He squinted and mouthed the words scrawled before raising an eyebrow. “Who the hell is Alban Erdmann?”

Marco shrugged before fixing his eyes on a spot behind Jean and tensing. Jean felt the paper snatched out of his hands, making him jump and whirl around. He didn't expect to have to raise his head completely to look at his attacker. 

Lieutenant Zacharius was much larger than expected when one stood next to him. 

Jean gulped, scooting back and giving his superior ample space. Marco tucked himself to Jean's side. Lieutenant Zacharius just wrinkled his nose, making his mustache wiggle, and read over the paper with an intense look in his eyes. “You.” 

Jean held in the noise that wanted to squeak out. “Y-yessir?” 

“Where did you find this?” 

Jean silently pointed to the cabinet, where the drawer he had been stuffing files into was still hanging open. Lieutenant Zacharius nodded and proceeded to yank the drawer out of the cabinet entirely. “Dismissed, soldier.” 

Jean could only nod dumbly as he watched his superior walk away with an entire cabinet drawer in his hands. “…did that just happen?” Marco blinked and nodded once. Jean's eyes flicked over and noticed his left arm was turning a bit numb from the spirit rubbing himself against his side. “Uh, you're kind of in my personal space bubble.” 

“Wha—  _Oh,_ oh, sorry—” Marco scooted away, keeping his eyes downward to Jean's partially numb arm. “Sorry. I'll just… I'll just head off now. I'll come back when I find something.” 

“Okay, goo—” Marco slid through the floor before Jean could say more, leaving the medium to stare at the floorboards with his hand raised in farewell. He faintly heard the bell signifying lunch was over ring in the distance. “…why the hell is everyone weird today?”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> REMEMBER I love it when you guys comment and leave me messages and ask questions so do that because kudos isn't enough to keep me alive 
> 
> And follow me on tumblr @shingeki-no-unicorns where I might post side material if anyone is interested


	13. Temperance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanji Zoe's personal research notebook is a tome of unimaginable content. Science, experiments, personal rants, and mysterious stains abound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -LAUGHS AWKWARDLY-OKAY SO YEAH IT TAKES ME A LONG TIME TO UPDATE WOW HUH
> 
> I'm so sorry. This chapter was actually going to be longer but I took pity on my poor editor. I also greatly apologize because I spent half of January writing something ELSE. Because January 16th is officially "Miss Dion"s canonical birthday and I wanted to do little short things for it. Things that you guys won't see because it's not connected to this story in any way. 
> 
> And also WARNING I am back to being full time Durarara!! trash thanks to the new season. Don't worry though, I'm not gonna abandon the fic anytime soon. I'll just balance these two fandoms and scream internally forever. 
> 
> Thanks in this chapter go to commentors who help me keep this story on track and offer advice. I feel slightly less afraid of posting OC content now thanks to you guys. Maybe soon I'll post the many EoG illustrations penned in my personal sketchbook for you all.

_Notes from the desk of Hanji Zoe: Psychics_

_Subject: Concerns_

_The time of the expedition is growing closer. Eren's titan powers are still wholly a mystery to me, even with the tests I've been running. With the revelation of how his power can be activated, though, we've had a much easier time controlling the tests and we've gotten better results. Eren's achieved a partial transformation on orders since tests started again. He managed to form a fully functioning arm. Unfortunately, without the rest of his titan body to support the weight and muscle connections, the most he could do was flex his fingers. He actually managed to knock me over with his pointer finger when I was testing his sense of touch!_

_His_ psychic  _powers are flourishing under my study. He's been writing down his predictions and feelings and so far a majority of them have managed to come true. I've watched Eren change events right in front of me. Just yesterday he dove in and prevented my horse from bucking me when I was taking her out for a bit of exercise. Said he had seen it happen that morning when I patted his head before breakfast. (He's still cooking it, by the way. Levi and his squad love it. He somehow manages to make the horrible icky oatmeal taste delicious with a few berries and some old brown sugar.)_

_Unfortunately, his powers have flourished a little too well._

_A few days ago Mike found something related to the A.E. case. Papers hidden away in the records room in the main base. Apparently A hid them there should anything happen. Mike delivered them to Erwin, and he's spent every minute since trying to figure out what it all means. To the outside eye, it's all nonsense._

_Eren says psychics are very protective of their work. Books written by them remain in their possession and away from human hands. Research is kept hidden. The reason humanity doesn't know much about them is due to their own deep seated paranoia of being used. I already know from previous talks that the seedier people in society will pay a high price for a psychic on the black market. Something as rare and exotic as a person who can see the future is a handy tool for anyone who has ambitions. If psychics know this, then it makes sense for them to keep all their information secret. Which means the notes Erwin has may just be completely useless in human hands. I think A might have written these notes in a code only another psychic would understand. Maybe even then, it could be a code only_ he _would ever understand so no one had any chance of reading his work._

_But we can't show them to Eren. He's already leaning a little too close for comfort. His visions have had A's name in them and he's beginning to question why. Hopefully we can keep him away from the investigation, for his own safety. Levi has been scheduling training routines for his squad so Eren can become more familiar with them, so that has kept him busy and worn out._

_I've noticed that even during training, Eren keeps respectful distance from everyone. On the outside it looks like he's being considerate of their rank and personal space preferences. But Levi's words at the last meeting come to mind. Eren isn't staying away out of respect. He's doing it so he can dodge if their swords are drawn._

_He might have gotten away with this if it wasn't in the notes that personal space is a silly concept psychics ignore._

 

* * *

 

 

**The Battle of Trost**

 

Being eaten by a titan was perhaps the most unpleasant thing a human being could currently experience.

She had cried— _lord_ ,she had cried—when she lifted her head and saw the looming face of a large eyed titan coming for her. She had screamed in terror and anguish and pain. It lifted her like she was nothing, and she  _was_ nothingto this giant, ignoring her screams and pleas to stop as it began to devour her. 

Mina Carolina had left this world a screaming mess, sliding down the throat of a titan with her side chewed to mincemeat by the flapping jaws of the monster and her legs dangling uselessly. She faintly heard Armin's screams for Eren— _oh_ , _god_ ,poor Eren, who had so many aspirations and was taken down so easily—but her mind was too focused on the pain to be felt from the burning hot insides of the giant that had taken her. 

Soldiers who lived through being swallowed always boiled to death or drowned in the stomach. That was what she had been taught. She felt it now and knew any hope she had was gone. The insides were so  _hot_. The juices of the titan's stomach stunk, it stunk of death and bodies and madness, and it covered every inch of her, searing her skin past the point of pain and into true numbness. If she had any energy left, she would have screamed. Pleaded more. Prayed for forgiveness for every sin she had committed in her life.

_Mina Carolina. Born in Jinae. Age upon death: fifteen. Soldier casualty of the Battle of Trost. Cause of death: titan._

The voice was deep. Deep and smooth and soothing, but also so dense and thick it felt as if someone was dropping bricks with every word. Mina cracked one eye open, seeing nothing in the dark confines of the stomach except the corpses of the fallen. She felt herself sink lower and began to choke on the boiling juices. She felt her throat become burned instantly. She couldn't even cry out in pain. 

_But you don't want to die, do you?_

She sobbed with no tears, throat burning and aching, feeling the life leave her slowly. What did the voice want? Where was it coming from? 

_You wanted to do more. The boy in the training camp had ambition that passed to you. You wanted to help humanity and do the right thing. But now that chance is gone because you weren't strong enough._

Why did it torture her like this? She just wanted it to be over. Let her suffering end. 

_I can make you strong enough._

If only… If only she had worked harder—

_Reach out your hand. I can help you. You can avenge your death, the Wagner boy's death— You can still be a soldier._

The hand that wasn't numb and damaged reached up, her eyes sliding shut as her body sunk lower, lower, submerging her face as she accepted death. Maybe in the next life she would have worth. Maybe then she would survive longer. Save people. Mean something. 

_Mina._

_Mina…_

“MOTHER _FUCKER_!”

It was with a wild jerk that Mina snapped awake, thin blanket falling to the floor and a confused gargle making its way past her sleep gummed lips. She groaned at having her nap so rudely cut off and rubbed her eyes in distaste. Her dreams had been so much more intense lately. She always woke with a muddled sense of reality. Where was she again? 

One tired eye cracked open to look at the stained oak of the bunk bed. Right. Temporary housing owned by the boss. She and her mentor were watching the Scouting Legion base. 

A loud banging and more cursing in strange tongues reminded her she wasn't exactly alone. 

Mina yawned and rubbed at her eyes a final time before sitting up and worming her way out of the bunk. She spared a glance at herself in the dresser mirror and cringed. Maybe she could swing a bath before the day was over; she looked like a disaster. Giving her limbs a short stretch, Mina padded over to the door and opened to see what had decided to wake her up. 

She wasn't too surprised to see Miss Dion hopping on one leg and giving the short table in the sitting room a glare. Miss Dion had exchanged her skirt for a pair of brown trousers but her boots were nowhere to be seen. Mina chalked it up as another one of Miss Dion's strange habits. Like speaking in words no one understood or insulting the cooking of whatever tavern was serving dinner— Walking around barefoot seemed second nature, even if the floor was coated in unholy filth. 

“Fuck you, you fucking piece of shit table and your fucking toe stubbing—” Her head swung up at the sound of the door opening and the anger slid from her eyes. “Oh. You're awake. Be a doll and help me clean up, would you?” 

Mina nodded and swerved around the offending toe-stubbing-table to grab a broom from the hall closet. The little flat hadn’t been filthy when they had arrived, but there  _was_  a layer of dust on everything. And oddly enough a pile of feathers in the corner of the restroom. Miss Dion had griped for hours about “fucking molting.” Mina had just shrugged and helped get rid of them. 

Seeing that her toe wasn't broken or falling off, the blonde set her foot back on the ground and resumed cleaning the dust off the furniture. 

“So why are we cleaning? You said this was just a temporary stop.” Mina scooted a chair to the side to sweep the dust away, cringing at the size of the clumps sticking to the broom bristles. Ugh. She would need to mop after this. 

“It is. We'll be going back to Sina soon to prepare for the Legion's expedition and the next phase of the plan.” Miss Dion ripped the cushion off the old posh sofa and threw it towards the window, sending up a small cloud with a minuscule  _poof_. Mina could see a throw rug rolled up in the same spot. “But Master called a meeting.” 

Mina paused in her sweeping. “Master called a meeting?  _Here_?” 

“Infiltration team is coming down. Special assignment.” Miss Dion swept the feather duster under the sofa and coughed a bit before looking up. “This will be a good chance for you, kid. You'll get to meet the team.” 

“The entire team?” 

“No…” Miss Dion's face drooped a little as she took the feather duster back out and cringed at how many cobwebs were clinging to it. She wrinkled her nose before trudging to the window and beating the tool against the windowsill to clean it out. “We used to be huge. Tons of members doing espionage missions all over. Greatest dream in the world to be chosen for it.” Lifting the duster up, she judged it to be clear before returning to the sofa. “Now we're barely a handful. Only two members are coming down because our dumbass captain can't leave his post.” 

“You'd think you would respect your captain more,” Mina muttered, checking her progress with the broom. All she seemed to be doing was pushing the grime in different directions. At this point maybe mopping first would produce better results. 

Miss Dion cackled from her position on the floor. “Respect doesn't exist in this team. Our former captain was a fucking useless lesbian and I reminded her every chance I got. We got into fist fights a lot before  _and_ after I joined the team.” 

Mina half-smiled, groping around for the dust bin that went with the broom. “Sounds fun.”

“That was back when we were big. Before… Well, before  _the thing_ that moved all our operations inside the walls.” Miss Dion finished with the sofa and moved to start on a fancy looking chair. Her nose was still wrinkling from the dust and every few seconds she blew a wispy bit of hair away from her face. “Master will tell you more about it if you ask. I don't really like talking about it. Team fell apart afterwards. We have a few still doing work on the outside, but—” She cringed heavily. “Long story short, the last intel we got was about six years ago when we got the tip that Maria was in danger.” 

Mina tensed. She had been raised in Rose but the effects of Maria had hit every person deeply. Memories of food shortages began playing over in her head. Memories of humanity as a whole weeping over great loss and starving children begging on corners. Memories of the mess hall hearing stories about life as a refugee. “Maria fell  _five_  years ago.” 

“An operation like the fall of Maria takes time and effort to put together, kid.” Miss Dion craned her head from her awkward position to knock the dust out of the chair. “Get used to hearing bad things in advance. We usually know when shit's coming. Part of our job is to prepare for it.” Her tone softened at Mina's tense shoulders. “You know we couldn't have prevented it. Even if we wanted to.” 

Mina thought it over, then nodded solemnly. She knew what she was getting into when she made her deal. No need to start nitpicking now. The rules and restrictions had been explained to her upon contracting and she understood that there were limits. 

Even if it made everyone involved unhappy, there were limits. She could only crush the feeling in the pit of her stomach and try to make peace with it.

“Now that we're talking about preparing, go ahead and just mop this shit. Without water that floor is never getting clean and if this flat isn't sparkling, Azrael's gonna chew my ass off.” 

Mina gripped her broom with a halfhearted grin and gave a mock salute on her way to fetch the water bucket. “Aye aye, ma'am.”

 

* * *

 

Eren's mother had once described being around the special human as the same as being fed small amounts of drugs. The ones that made people hyperactive and giddy and unable to focus. The ones his father would administer to patients in lots of pain that made them chase imaginary butterflies for hours from the comfort of their beds. 

Up until now, Eren had never cared or thought about it. 

Now he could somewhat see his mother had a very good point. Time around Levi always seemed to  _fly_  and his thoughts scattered with the seconds ticking by. He was acting silly. He was daydreaming. He was acting like he was when he first met Armin and the idea of having a friend he enjoyed being around made him want to run in place for hours and hours. 

He knew he was being a little ridiculous but a traitorous part of his mind containing seer instinct was telling him to keep going at full speed. Eren was promptly telling that little corner of his brain to shut the hell up because there was something more important going on. Something that needed all his mental power. 

The fact he had a vision containing a  _known_ dead person was enough to snap him out of whatever honeymoon bliss had plagued his mind since deciding on his human. 

In all his years of learning about his visions, he was given clear rules on the dead. Once someone was dead, that was it. No more. It didn’t matter if you had a jar of their blood and your hand was wrist deep in it— You got nothing. They ceased to appear anywhere—unless they were a spirit. In that case, you would need a medium to even get a glimpse. But in every other aspect, they ceased to be and you weren't to bother with them anymore.

It was one of the first lessons Carla Jaeger had bothered to teach her son. She used hair from his grandmother to show him— He could rub the silky material all day if he wanted but nothing ever came. She had told him he needed to understand because the dead never came back. There was no way to undo such things once they were done. If they were dead, they were gone and life went on without them.

So why did Eren see Mina Carolina's smiling face as he checked his book that morning?

It didn't make any sense. Mina was dead. She couldn't be appearing in visions. Eren had damn near dropped his book when he saw her, gripping the pages tightly as his breathing increased dramatically. His eyes shot down to look at the hair he had been touching and he wondered just how Jean of all people came into contact with her.

He left his room to prepare breakfast, and the entire time he wore a scowl as he tried to put together everything so it made sense.

Had Mina come back as a spirit or a ghost? It was a stupid theory but maybe since it was through a medium’s eyes… No, no, it didn't feel _right._ He had been getting visions from Jean off and on for years and the few times he had glimpsed anything otherworldly (usually a cat, there was apparently a black one that had died on the training grounds and stuck around), they hadn't seemed so _real_. Solid. She looked touchable.

  
Had it  _really_ been Mina? Maybe it was someone who just looked like her. Eren's nose wrinkled as he worked that scenario out in his head. As spotty as his memory was, he always recalled visions with crystal clarity. It was part of being a seer. Every second of each vision burned behind his eyelids. He sighed in defeat and admitted that yes, that  _was_  Mina. There was no mistaking her button nose and round eyes and those childish pigtails she was so insistent on wearing. 

Had Mina survived Trost? If so, how had she done it and why hadn't she come forward to tell the record keepers there had been a mistake? Had Armin been wrong? The very thought of Armin being wrong made the entire universe tilt a little and his head hurt from such a backwards suggestion. 

Eren fumed and ended up finishing breakfast preparations with a scowl so foul Moblit had skipped his usual “good morning” and backed away from the doorway when he came to check on Eren’s progress. 

Thoughts of Mina ended up joining the other concerns that had been building up from visions. 

Like the man in black. 

The man in black had been appearing more and more since his initial introduction. Hanji and Levi had told him it was no one. No one important and no one he should give any concern to. Just another face he should ignore as a part of the background. 

But the man in black  _wasn't_ just another face. It was a face that kept  _looking_  at him. He would maintain eye contact throughout the vision and refuse to break. His very presence was like a void and he made everything feel cold. Eren had only felt chills that severe when someone in his visions was going to die. Like the crawling sensation in his spine the morning before Trost was breached. 

The worst part of the man in black was his smile. It was like he knew he was being watched and he thought it was  _amusing_. Every time he appeared, Eren would retreat from the vision shivering and feeling sick deep in his stomach. 

The very last problem was the name that kept coming in whispers and questions. Alban Erdmann. He had heard it first when checking Levi's page. Then again with Hanji. Twice with Commander Erwin. Three times with Lieutenant Zacharius, two of those being from papers he was reading in the vision itself. When Eren had asked about the name, he had received the same response as when he asked about the man in black. 

“ _Nothing important, Eren.”_

Frankly, it was starting to piss him off a little that none of his questions had answers. 

Offhandedly, he wondered if he should do something to curb his stress levels, since his usual method of punching things might not sit well with Levi. Maybe he could get a pet. He'd always liked cats. 

In the meantime, he set out breakfast for the squad and trotted off to find Hanji. Might as well get the morning interview out of the way since he was in a foul mood. Hanji's penchant to turn the interview into idle chatter might ebb away at his concerns and allow him to think without muddled frustration. That or he could ask to send a message to Armin. Armin could probably figure everything out without even trying. 

His hope for ending his frustration ended when he found Hanji's room abandoned. 

Hanji's room, if it could still be called a room and not an evil lair or a pit of despair, had manifested enough of a mess in such a short time that Eren had gotten lost twice and Levi looked green when passing the door. Really, it was a miracle of science. Eren had never been a clean child but the clutter in his old bedroom was nothing compared to the base of operations for a researcher. Books towered in all directions, spare papers stacked and pinned to random objects, half-drunk cups of various liquids set in places and left to evaporate or mold,  _several_ jackets—some of which weren't even Hanji's—draped over chairs and wadded up as makeshift pillows— Eren could only sigh when he noticed Hanji's goggles missing from their peg on the wall. She was already up and out. Maybe she was trying to beat the crowd (small as it was) and eat breakfast first.

Eren had turned to leave when he paused and slightly curved his head back.

Hanji's notebook was on top of a paper stack. Alone.

It was the first time he had seen the book outside of her possession.

Eren slowly turned back around, darting his eyes as if Hanji was actually hiding behind her mess, and then used his pinky finger to crack the cover open.

_Notes from the desk of Hanji Zoe—_

Eren promptly shut the book, looked around  _one more time_ just  _to make sure,_ then flipped to the latest entries. He hoped he didn't get in trouble for this. It was research about him, right? Shouldn't the subject see what was being written about them? Was there even a law for that? There probably wasn't, but Eren didn't dwell on it for too long. 

_AE. Alban Erdmann?_  Eren wondered.

He knew he didn't have time to browse in depth. Hanji's writing was erratic, scribbled in excitement with words slurring together or turning into sharp points, slanting at odd angles, but Eren could make out the more important bits. He read over his own words from interviews and tests and frowned—these were things he already knew. Pages alternated between titan testing and notes on his visions and behavior, some breaking from that entirely to talk about something different that Hanji found important. There was one page dedicated entirely to some chemical formula Eren didn't understand, but it had the title “Hormone Treatment” so he left it well enough alone. 

Sucking at his teeth, he skimmed the quick notes hoping for something relevant. He could tell some of these were made by a Hanji that lacked sleep, judging from the giant block letters spelling out “kitten mittens” tucked away in a page margin and circled like it was a holy testament. 

_AE: suffered an aneurysm in the battlefield. Look into foul play. EDIT: Mike sent a messenger. There were notes found. Look into seer code._

_Eren is seeing a man in black. It's obviously AG. Avoid contact. He would have a field day taunting him and we don't need Eren to have a grudge in high places._

_Reminder to bathe by Thursday. Levi might knock you out and shove you in the shower again. —Moblit_

Eren visibly cringed at the most recent one. Is that why Hanji's hair was always shiny? He just assumed she was like Mikasa, whose hair was perpetually shining every day of every year. The girls in training had often joked she had made some unholy pact to make it that way. This either meant Mikasa didn't bathe or something was very wrong with Hanji's head. 

The other two notes he committed to memory.  _These_ were important. It wasn't much to go on as it was, but it was enough. He made quick work of adjusting the notebook back to its original position next to a tea stain and a leaky fountain pen before slowly padding back to the door. 

Yes, he would simply escape and make his way back to breakfast with no suspicion whatsoever. Perfect plan. Armin could no longer say his sense of strategy was terrible. 

Eren opened the door, only to come face to face with Petra with her hand raised to knock. 

Now, of the many legends of seers, there were truths that remained after generations and generations of a changing world and changing societies. From the dawn of human history, seers have been praised for their ability to remain calm. They have been feared for their skills at lying. Worshiped for their sheer grace in the art of twisting truths and making the world cower under their feet. 

Eren barely had any of these talents, and the end result was him engaging in an awkward staring contest with a woman who was five-foot-two of hardened soldier. 

If anyone had been present, they would have compared the scene to a housecat caught with its paw about to touch the inside of its master’s drink. Eren was stone still, lips in a straight line and eyes widened in alarm. Petra wore a similar expression, but hers was more of sheer confusion. 

Neither of them moved, until Petra had the sense to lower her arm and shoot Eren a questioning look. 

Eren did the only thing he could think of. He played the innocent child act. 

“Um, do you know where Hanji is? I came up here to talk but…” He averted his gaze and fidgeted. It did well to look uncomfortable in this situation, but really he was checking Petra's waist. No blades. Good. If it came down to a physical confrontation, he didn't need to worry about being cut. 

Petra's voice held suspicion, but she stepped aside anyway to let Eren out. “She and Levi left. Commander Erwin called for them again.”

Eren felt a twist in his chest. They were gone? Without a warning? Last time, everyone had to go  _with_ them. Why would they suddenly change their minds and leave everyone behind—? Eren quickly caught his train of thought and squashed it. Now was  _not_ the time to worry about his human. 

He calmed his beating heart and slumped his shoulders to feign embarrassment. “Oh. Guess I waited for nothing then.” 

Petra’s eyes ran over him once more, taking in his body language, and she then let out a breath he hadn't noticed her holding before she shrugged. “I'll say. You missed a good part of breakfast.” 

“I eat enough of it while I'm making it. It isn't a problem.” That was a bold faced lie. He had only gotten bread, but she didn't need to know that. 

She smiled—a little tight and he could tell she wasn't cheerful—but kept an easygoing stance as they both made their way back. “I wish we'd managed to tell you before you came all the way up here.”

“It's not so bad. I wasn't waiting long.” 

The conversation ended there, and the both of them settled into a semi-uncomfortable silence. Eren maintained his respectable distance and Petra didn't stare in his direction as she walked. He wondered if she believed him. He  _was_ looking for Hanji initially so he couldn't say he was lying  _entirely._ Oh, who was he kidding? That was weak and he probably looked guilty. Maybe instead of acting lost he could do what Mikasa did and just stare at people until they walked away. For some reason that always worked for her. 

Petra cleared her throat, calling Eren out of his own sorting-of-his-life-choices. “I found something when we were cleaning that you might be interested in.” 

Interested? Eren's head raised itself a little. The squad didn't know him very well besides information one could find in his file or the few personal things he was willing to divulge.

Petra reached into her jacket pocket and brought out a stack of cards.

Eren gasped.

For fortune tellers like Eren's mother, or his grandmother as he was told, having a set of the tarot was a tool that would come in handy infinitely and any self-respecting seer would study the arcana at some point in their life. His mother’s set had been worn down, the decorated top trying to peel off in some areas, paint faded and sun yellowed spots fading away the colors of the symbols, but it was treated with such care and reverence that it was easily the most valuable thing in the Jaeger household. (Despite the fact his mother had bought the set off a traveling merchant. The man had actually tried to overcharge for the obviously used pack but a then seventeen-year-old Carla had gripped his genitals in a tight fist until he lowered the price. That story was a favorite when his parents discussed their youth.)

The pack Petra held looked much more monetarily valuable. The tops were a sheer purple decorated with silver and gold in intricate patterns, loops and circles coming together for a stylized eye symbol Eren could recognize in his sleep—the symbol that this was made by a seer, and was for seer use only.

She handed over the cards to his awaiting hands, watching him shuffle through to count the cards included. His excitement actually made him tremble a little.

“I thought they were playing cards until I looked at the other side. Didn't really know what the pictures meant. But I thought I remembered something about eyes being psychic symbols, so…”

Eren was beaming. The entire set was there. His voice was so little, so barely audible as he began to think out loud. It had been too long since he had a physical connection to something like this. “This is amazing. I haven't seen any in years—” 

“So what  _are_  they for?” He nearly jumped as Petra came close, craning her head to look down at the detailed sketches on each card. 

Eren collected himself and cleared his throat, shuffling through the cards once more. “They're for fortune telling. Predicting stuff. Each card has a picture, and the pictures have an archetype that describes the person you're reading. What they're like, their position in the world, obstacles coming their way…” 

“That sounds so neat.” Petra's smile was much more genuine now, eyes flickering across each card with interest. The tension that had been with them suddenly melted away into something much more comfortable. “Have you ever done it before?” 

“A few times when I was little. I wasn't very good at it.” 

“Well, no one expects a little kid to be an expert. I'm sure you would be better at it now.” Petra stepped back and smiled at him, this time with ease. “Want to try it out?”

Eren organized the cards back into a stack and gripped them tightly. “Don't we have chores?” 

“Levi left me in charge of you today. I say we're playing cards.” 

Eren allowed her to tug him to the dining hall without protest. Of course Levi would leave her in charge. Eren just dropped his attention back down to the cards and memorized each image as he tried to recall what they meant. He was sure he remembered the important bits. When it came to things like this, he remembered the broad important points. Details were another thing. Details flew away like flies and only Mikasa seemed capable of remembering them. Maybe he should ask her for a quick reminder next time they saw each other. 

The card staring up at him from the bottom of the deck was Temperance. He remembered the general meaning of that one. After the purge of Death, Temperance was rebuilding upon it all and improving the old flaws. 

He found the card design a bit odd, though. 

Usually the angel was a man. This time it was a fairly pretty woman with scary red eyes. 

 

* * *

 

**Extra**

Hanji patted one pocket. 

Hanji patted another. 

Hanji frowned, growled, and began searching through every nook and cranny of her body with increasingly irritated noises. 

“Oi, the fuck are you doing?” She twisted her head back a little to see Levi glaring at her from the other end of the stable, hooking his own horse up and giving it a pat on the nose for behaving. “You forget to take your hormones this month? This is weird for you.” 

Hanji bent down to look at him through her legs, adjusting her goggles as her ponytail brushed the dirty hay on the stable floor. “Hey, Levi, do me a favor and look at my butt.” 

The shorter man looked positively offended. His mouth hung open just a bit as he stared at her face and entirely avoided the body part she had requested. “…what?” 

“Is my notebook in one of the pockets? I'm numb from riding so I can't really feel anything.” 

He stared at her for a moment longer. 

Then he turned and walked away without another word. 

Hanji flailed her hands in distress, looking progressively sillier considering she was still bent over. “Levi! Wait! I'm being completely serious!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly can't tell sometimes when I want this story to be serious or comedic. I think listening to WTNV on the way to/from school is at fault. 
> 
> Visit my tumblr @shingeki-no-unicorns, and don't forget I track the tag 'fic: Eyes of Gold'
> 
> As always: don't forget to comment! I appreciate comments of all sorts ranging from constrictive criticism to pointless gushing to speculation on story direction. Anything will do!


	14. Tarot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The cards have been predicting lives since long before you born, boy. Study more before you try and interpret their message.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HA. HA HA. 
> 
> I'M SO SORRY. 
> 
> I really should update more. I'm so sorry for taking so long. But while writing this I was hit with the ot3 feels and I started [Bootleggers](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3465857) for the erejeanmarco ship and I kept putting THIS off to work on THAT and it was a mess. 
> 
> But then some lovely anons began asking questions and I got my writing mojo back. Thank you, you lovely little things. I also started my new [WRITING BLOG](http://shingekicornwrites.tumblr.com) which you should all hit up because I always answer questions and post extra material.

 

 

 

 

  _They come in an army._

_They, those who speak of heaven and hell, yet consort as demons._

_They, who shine with golden tongues and pearly teeth, but hide their blood soaked hands in pristine robes._

_They, who claim love, only to look down upon us all as insects for crushing._

_The Angel of Mercy works with Death’s Helmsman, littering bodies upon request. Their ways are outside human eyes. Their faces are masks of ages past. They seek the bloody Valkyrie in the body of monsters. Their ruler, the one called a merciful god who smiles upon them, is nothing more than an embodiment of apathy._

_And yet…_

_These monsters are the ones preferable to what can be found within man’s rule._

_—Alban Erdmann_

_Decoded from original text. Erwin Smith. Year 850_

 

_Notes from the desk of Hanji Zoe_

_Subject: Personal Reminder_

_Levi and I had to meet with Erwin again, this time without Eren in tow. The summons was so sudden I even left my notebook behind! Looks like no one touched it, though. It was right where I left it. Eren seemed a little miffed at our sudden departure but he settled down and became very content when he was able to see Levi was back safe and sound. I really should ask about his new attitude; it's fascinating. I'm a little surprised Levi willingly let Eren stay with only the squad, but Erwin's command for team bonding might have something to do with it._

_Anyway, Erwin called us for something very important. The material Mike found on the AE case had a few clues that could point us in a much more productive direction._

_Levi didn't take this well. The clues pointed us in the exact direction he was hoping to avoid. You see, Levi has this_ contact  _in Sina. We've used them maybe three to four times since Levi joined the military. Usually for business that shouldn't be mentioned here. He hates using them. I find it amusing, actually, considering he once mentioned he'd been doing business with them off and on for eight or so years. Every time we send him out to the contact he comes back, and something terrible happens in the news within a week._

_Last time there was a minor bombing in Jinae within two days. He swears he didn't do anything. Erwin and I don't buy it for a second. (Mike couldn't even keep a straight face through the denial!)_

_The clues in the AE notes point us directly to the contact, so sometime soon Levi and I have to make a trip to Sina. He insists on bringing me with him. I asked why and he gave me some nonsensical answer about “sacrifice for the monster.” Personally, I'm just excited I finally get to meet the person who makes Levi's eye twitch so badly._

_Before the trip, I need a few things:_

  * _Cloaks that don't out us as military upon sight_
  * _A few vials of Eren's blood, taken without Levi's knowledge_
  * _A babysitter for Eren willing to take notes on what he does_



 

_Levi says for the trip we might leave Eren under Erwin and Mike's watch for security reasons, but still. Maybe Moblit can follow him around with a clipboard. It should take us a little less than two days at the most and I would hate to miss out on some amazing new development._

 

 

* * *

 

Eren could piece together memories of how to arrange the cards, where to draw, and advice being whispered in his ear on when a prediction felt  _right_. As a child, he had never been able to discern the tell his mother insisted existed, causing him to fail every draw, but now it seemed easier. Smoother. His hands hovered over the cards, a feeling of discontent pawing at his chest, and his frown would briefly dampen his expression before he made quick work of correcting mistakes.

Petra watched with rapt attention, fascinated by the entire process. Eren tried his best to ignore her gaze as he practiced his skills with a few test runs. When he bothered to look up, he found the same curious expression. Was she honestly interested? He'd never had much of a captive audience outside of Sasha.

Granted, when Sasha was focusing on him that intently, he was either eating something delicious or telling a story. The old seer tales he remembered from childhood seemed to fascinate her, and when he finished, she would pick up with an interesting story about the woods and the old folk tales dwelling inside. Some part of him was sure every one was censored since she seemed to cut out anything relating to where the story itself came from.

Petra was giving the cards the same look Sasha would give him when he talked about the hunting goddess who used a bow.

It felt awkward. With the rampant suspicion in the squad, suddenly having someone try to spend time with him felt foreign. Was Petra under orders? Somehow Eren couldn't imagine Levi giving the order to have fun and play cards.

“Okay, have you ever gotten a reading before?” Petra lifted her eyes from the cards and shook her head. “It's real simple for a basic reading, so I don't even have to charge you. I just draw two cards and form a general prediction. Easy.”

“It sounds really broad. Is it ever accurate?”

“Depends on level of skill,” Eren stated unsurely. “My family has had some great fortune tellers, but I don't think it's my specialty.”

Petra nodded, a simple hum passing her lips. “And the charging?”

Eren placed his elbows on the table, fingers shuffling with each other before he could worm an answer out. “It's kind of difficult to explain. It's all about fair trade.”

Petra nodded again. “Like money for goods.”

“Except money doesn't count. Fortune telling is about taking a close, personal look at someone's life and the things that await them. Visions through touch are just brief moments.” Eren paused in his explanation to hold his hands up, imitating scales. “The visions I get are worthless. They're just a result of touch. I can only make them worth anything with information I take away from what I see.”

Petra nodded once more, leaning to rest her head on her fist. “So the fortunes are worth more because you see more?”

His one hand dipped down, raising the other up. “It's  _very_ invasive for a full reading. I'm not actually sure why but I know that the depth of what the fortune teller does sets some sort of balance off. It takes a lot of practice to do it right. And the payment is never money, because money is worthless in terms of actual meaning.” His hands evened out again. “The client pays something full of  _personal_ worth. Family history, attachment, sentimentality. Something worth roughly the same as the information being given. That way everything is balanced.”

“I  _think_  I understand.” Petra's face betrayed her, showing she didn't really understand at all. Eren let it slide since he had never been sure of the way it worked, either. “So right now it's more or less a guessing game?”

“If my skill level is the same as age ten, yeah.”

“All right, let's get to it then.”

Eren set himself to work, face pinched in thought as he set the cards right one final time. A feeling settled in his chest telling him  _yes_ , he had it right. All was well with this hand. He quickly glanced at Petra, who still watched the cards but with a more excited hunch of the shoulders, and drew.

The Grim Reaper, clothed in silky black atop his white steed, stared back from the card almost mockingly.

“Death.” Eren set the card down and pursed his lips, cringing a bit. Petra's face fell so quickly it was comical. “The good news is that it doesn't mean what you think it means.”

Petra poked at the card with disappointment evident. “Judging from the card, it looks like you're telling me to write my will.”

“The Death card isn't actually about death, though.” Eren nudged her hand away, rubbing away any finger oils that might ruin the ink on the picture. “It's actually a card for change. Big life change.” Petra's face remained in a chagrined state. “It might mean the expedition, actually. Since the outcome will show whether or not I…you know…die or something.”

Not that he planned to let that happen. If he was given to the Military Police for any reason, he would make an escape so fast the escape artists in the Sina theaters would applaud him. But telling anyone about  _that_ plan was stupid.

“That's  _your_  future, though,” Petra pointed out.

“Not if I live. Your job would kind of permanently be helping Levi make sure I don't crush civilians with my feet.” Eren shrugged. “I dunno. I told you I'm bad at this. Have you been planning any life changing choices I don't know about?”

Petra's eyes rolled as she thought, lips faintly moving as she recounted things she had done. “Um…no? My entire life is pretty much the military, and I never made plans for leaving.”

“Well, then expedition it is.” Eren waved his hand, shooing the thought away. “Ready for the next card?” Petra brightened and nodded. Eren grabbed the next card and gently set it down, coming face to face with the red eyed angel of Temperance. “Ah. Temperance.”

Petra softly  _ooh_ -ed at the card, poking at the picture in curiosity. “What does this card mean?”

“It goes with Death. Temperance is the rebuilding of the world after Death wipes the slate clean. So your life is going to change, and you'll rebuild from that, I guess.” Eren wracked his brain, trying to remember all the details to the cards. There was the symbolism, the traits that went along with each figure—in the years since his last attempt, he had all but forgotten the bare basics.

Petra didn't seem to care, as she was positively glowing from Eren's predictions. “You think we should get the others in for their own reading?”

Eren frowned. Maybe they would do it as a joke, but he could easily see Aurou blowing the whole thing off. “I don't think they would take it very seriously.”

“Probably not.” Petra sighed. “I guess what seems like a fun game to us is important to you, huh?” Eren nodded. “Sorry.”

“Not your fault.” Eren brought his shoulders up in a halfhearted shrug. Petra seemed earnestly sorry, though, making a face at the idea of turning something he thought was important into a joke. “Really, it's okay. My graduating class kept making me bed sheet turbans as a joke.”

Petra actually giggled at that. Eren sent an easy smile back, lightly clenching the cards in his hand. This was the farthest he had managed to get in terms of comfort with the squad. Petra didn’t reach for any weapons when he moved. She didn’t eye him with suspicion. If she was under orders, she was either a very good actress or she was genuinely having a nice time.

Suddenly, he realized this was the exact moment he needed for the problem that had been bothering him that morning.

Hanji and Levi refused to tell him anything but he was  _sure_ Petra didn't know about the apparent gag order on the man in black.

So he just needed to play it cool.

“I played along with it, of course. One time we found an old cannonball in the woods and I polished it and put it on a pillow.” Eren mimed waving his hands around the ball, putting on a silly expression. “Come and get your futuuure…only two coppeerrs…”

Petra laughed. “You must have been a fun bunkmate.”

Eren waved his free hand nonchalantly. “Eh, I was average. I did have a tendency to give cryptic warnings that drove everyone nuts.” He set the cards down, settling them into a neat pile next to the drawn pair still facing his conversation partner. “Watch out for that tree. Don't trust the step. The meat isn't as fresh as you think it is—”

“That last one sounds nasty.”

“Only five people escaped food poisoning. One of them was me.” Eren jerked his thumb to point towards himself. Petra made a face at the thought of a camp full of poisoned tweens, nose wrinkling a bit into a rather cute button.

Somewhere in the castle, Aurou's head lifted as he sensed he was missing something very, very important.

“Being a psychic sounds so interesting.” Petra rested her elbow on the table, propping her head up neatly. “Must be handy.”

Eren smiled. Perfect. “It can get frustrating, though.”

“How so?”

Eren feigned exhaustion, slumping his shoulders and letting his body weight sag against the table. “Well, for one, I always have to use context clues to figure out what I'm looking at. You never see things and just  _know_ ; you have to figure out what you might be looking at based on just a few seconds of what you see.” Petra nodded. “Just this week, I've had this one thing driving me _nuts_  because I can't figure out who I'm looking at.”

Petra perked up, interested. “So it's a person?”

Eren withheld the cheer of victory in his head. So close. So close to getting an answer at last!

“Yeah. I see him all the time but I have no idea who he is. Never seen him before.” He put on an agitated face, rolling his eyes for good measure. “And he's always got this  _look_ on his face, so I just get more and more frustrated.”

Petra leaned her weight against the tabletop a bit more, buying Eren's words easily. There was a twinge of guilt in his chest for duping her this way, but Eren alleviated it quickly by internally promising to take some of her chores. She belonged to Levi so it was important she remained happy. It wouldn't do to hurt someone so close to his human. “Well, who's seeing him? That's how it works, right? You see through other people?”

“Yeah.” Eren nodded. “I've seen him through multiple people. The Commander, Lieutenant Zacharius, the Captain, Hanji—” Eren paused, contemplative. “I think I even got him from you once.”

“What does he look like?”

Finally. Eren felt like patting himself on the back.

“Tall. He's tall and dressed all in black. Really pale but his hair is as dark as his clothes.” Eren listed off each point with a finger on one hand. “Glasses, and…oh! And a look on his face like he thinks whatever you just said was really stupid.”

When Eren looked back at Petra, he didn't expect what awaited him.

The same expression had briefly crossed Hanji and Levi's faces, too. It was more subtle on them. Hanji's lip turned up. Levi's eyes narrowed. Petra seemed intent on showing her disgust as clearly as possible. She wore the expression of someone unfortunate enough to clean the latrines, or to be seated next to the cart-sick person on long trips, or to step in a fresh  _pile_ in the stables—utter  _revulsion_  to the highest degree.

“I know  _exactly_ who that is,” she hissed. “I'm glad you don't have to meet him.”

Eren tried to reign in his excitement. On some level he failed. His eyes widened as he gripped the edge of the table. “Well, who is it?”

Petra's expression twisted into the same exasperated one she used around Aurou, eyes rolling as her lip remained curled. “Lord Grimm, Royal Adviser to the king and head of the Grimm estate.” She shivered. “He's the worst.”

“I doubt it.”

Petra slammed her fist on the table, shaking the cards left forgotten on the surface. “He  _is_! The last time I saw him in person, do you know what he did?”

“What?”

“He looked at Levi and told the Commander he didn't know the Scouting Legion was hiring circus people. It was the most disrespectful, rude, arrogant—” Petra halted midsentence and sucked in a heavy breath, closing her eyes for good measure. “He insults everyone regardless of who they are or what they've done. No respect for anyone.”

Eren hummed. This was interesting. He decided to push his luck and prod for more. “If he's so terrible, then why hasn't anyone stopped him?”

Petra frowned. “Like I said, he works for King Fritz. The Grimm family has served the monarchy since the early titan days. As long as he heads the Grimm estate, he can't be put out of a job.”

“No other relatives?” Eren cocked his head to the side lightly, studying Petra's face. She didn't seem to be lying. In fact, she seemed glad to be ranting about the man. The human penchant to endlessly talk about people they hated was an amazing one.

“A few scattered ones from what I hear. But none of them have claim on the estate. He only came to power because the previous head vanished.” Petra sighed. “She was only fourteen. But I heard she wasn't nearly as rude as  _him_.”

“Maybe he did something to…you know, get her out of the way.” Eren lowered his voice, poking at the side of Petra that seemed to indulge in a little gossip. When they had been cleaning, she had told him about Levi, so maybe she knew more. Maybe she could become a reliable source for news. Yes. Yes, he could use—

No.

No, no using her. She was one of Levi's, and she was off limits for that sort of thing.

He needed to be more empathetic, anyway. More human. He couldn't let instinct control his actions anymore;  _he_ needed to think and control.

Petra lightly huffed, drumming her fingers on the tabletop. “I wouldn't put it past him. He's completely twofaced. The Commander actually talks with him on a regular basis.”

Eren's jaw dropped. “Really?”

“Lord Grimm has been the biggest source of Legion funding for years. Donates bags of gold for our expeditions because he ‘admires our goals.’” Petra made air quotes around her words, sour face showing exactly what she thought of the statement. “Plus, there's his activism causes.”

“Activism?”

“He was the biggest protester of the military recruitment age being lowered to thirteen. Raised a huge fuss about sending children to die.” Petra chewed her lip, awkwardly sidestepping the fact Eren was one of those supposed children. “He built housing developments for refugees, led a campaign for ending the food shortage, actually  _screamed_ at the military heads for their failed plan to retake Maria…”

Eren folded his hands. This was very interesting information indeed. It wasn't uncommon for nobles to partake in charity to save face, it was really standard socialite behavior. But something nagged at the back of his head that there was more to this. “Sounds noble.”

“I'm sure it's a lie. His acts are noble, but when you meet him, he's a snake in the grass.” Petra shook her head. “Hasn't shown the military an ounce of respect since the recruitment age law passed. Not that he showed it much before, from what I hear.”

Eren stored away everything Petra was saying, nodding along. Everything was going into his notebook soon and one little piece of the puzzle would be out of the way. “How long has he been in power?”

“About seven or eight years.” Petra shrugged. “I think the Commander actually met the previous head before she vanished. By the time I joined, she was gone.”

Eren released a soft hum of confirmation. This was all good information. He could work with this. “So, why would everyone be seeing him at some point soon?”

“That could be anything from expedition fundraising to audience with the king,” Petra replied matter of fact. Her face switched to stony and she placed one hand in the center of the table. “If you ever see him yourself, just don't say anything. It's better to avoid him.”

Eren wasn't going to do that at all. “I'll take your word for it.” He had everything he needed now. He simply had to find time to write all of this down, which he would have as soon as he distracted Petra long enough to fetch his other notebook. And did some low-key apologizing for using her as an information pump.

Maybe she would like chocolates. He could definitely get his hands on some.

For the moment, he settled on thinking of a way to distract her so he could finish his business.

“By the way, Petra?” Eren batted his eyes. “If Hanji isn't here today, why were you checking her office?”

Petra froze.

Slowly a look of horror dawned on her face.

“ _I was supposed to be looking for Moblit. Oh, my god. I forgot about him_.”

Petra slammed her hands down against the table, shooting out of her chair fast enough to knock it over as she barked an order for Eren to begin making lunch as she resumed her search.

Eren's smile of good cheer melted slowly as she ran from the room and into the maze of castle hallways. Judging from his morning round of scrapbook checking, Moblit would be in the cellar drinking their dinner wine. Petra wasn't due to find him for at least an hour. He had more than enough time to write down the information for the man in black.

Eren slowly sat up and collected his new cards. He wondered who made such a quality set and who had left them behind. The next card ready to draw still sat in its spot, face down.

The shimmery visage of The Magician stared at him when he flipped it over.

 

* * *

 

Coming back to the larger towns after living in the mountains was always startling.

The northern sect of the walls spanned small mountains, just large enough to alter the weather to a constant cool gray mist and give wonderful views for the little villages scattered about. It was quiet there. Really, she preferred it there. It felt like she really had room to spread her wings and enjoy the little things. She could write her little fantasy serials in peace without editors breathing down her neck. Once every season, the occasional Sina family would turn up for a vacation and she would be forced to grit her teeth, memories of her childhood flashing before her, but they always left without a hint of recognition in their eyes.

Yes, Charle Inocendio finally had the quiet life she always dreamed of.

Coming back to the larger towns always reminded her of what she left. People were always moving around, things were new and yet different—the toys the children used, the switch to proper lamps from candlesticks—and the same buzz of a busy town square was almost soothing. It reminded her of those precious few years in Maria after leaving home.

Even more so when she paused in her thoughts and saw her companion stealing apples from a vendor.

“Kuklo!” The redhead abruptly turned, juicy red apple still clutched in his teeth as his one functioning eye widened in alarm. “Pay for that!” Kuklo grumbled through his treat, digging into his pocket and leaving a few shiny coppers on the stand before the vendor noticed what he was doing. “Honestly, can I take you anywhere?”

“Jus' one apple,” Kuklo grumbled through a mouthful of fruit. Charle shook her head and dragged him further into the market. If she let him stay near the food vendors, he would walk away with his pockets full. The taller male rolled his eye as he quickly finished his snack. His head swiveled around to survey the crowds. “Reminds me of—”

“Shinganshina? I know.” Charle smiled softly. “Feels like yesterday.”

Kuklo snorted and flicked Charle's ponytail, earning a yank back on the small string holding his eye patch in place. “Couldn't be yesterday.” Charle's golden hair glimmered in the sun, making his joking smile turn a little more genuine.

A little more youthful, too. His face was always too solemn for someone who only seemed to be in his teens.

“Been over sixty years since we lived there, after all.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Including those two babies has been in my head since I read Before the Fall. Please read it. Kuklo is a precious child and I adore him and his Eren-esque determination. Plus badass with an eyepatch who doesn't wanna see that shit. 
> 
> REMINDER: comments fuel me and keep me alive. Criticism is welcome. And hitting me up on my [NEW WRITING BLOG](http://shingekicornwrites.tumblr.com) will lead to hints and previews and a very happy author. 
> 
> I even post art there. wow. you should go there now.


	15. Subausculto

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And I'm feelin like a ghost
> 
> And it's what I hate the most

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took foreveeerrr. 
> 
> Part of the reason it took forever was because of that anxiety towards including OCs. I know if I try my hardest to do it right it'll end well, but still. The panic is there. But panic aside, this chapter was a JOY because one of my favorite inclusions makes their debut: Infiltration team. I've had these guys packed away for ages and their importance to the plot makes me sing. 
> 
> Other part is because I spent three hours formatting this damn thing because for some reason it wanted to be published entirely in italics. Fuck this site's rich text editor. 
> 
> Song for the chapter: Ghost-Mystery Skulls (Marco's Playlist)

 

 

  _Excerpt from   “_ The Studies of the Paranormal: Private Investigative Journals from the Desk of C. Inocendio, _”  published year 825 from Monthly Fantasy Tales, Stohess Press._

_Note from the publisher: Reminder to readers that this is a work of  fiction,  and information taken from the pages of this novel is not to be taken as true._

_Spirits are creatures close to human. They range from imprints of the soul attached to a memory or location, to the genuine consciousness of the departed who cannot truly move on.    As such, there are different methods that can be used against them should they become a pest that interferes with daily life._

_That isn't to say all spirits are nasty and need harsh measures taken. Many are simple imprints or souls who were emotionally attached to their location and wish to spend eternity there. In my time of study, I have found many spirit children who decided to spend eternity in their childhood homes watching over the families who took their place. Outside of my cabin is a wayward husky spirit who seems to think I am his new owner._

_Though with such friendly spirits existing, one should still tread with caution. If you are born or come into the ability to see them, they seek you out. Sometimes for help. Other times to try and reclaim the life they lost._

  
_**Successful** **Methods to Drive Away:** _

_Functional on all spirit types._

_Burn a roll of sage and herbs to banish. The smoke flushes spirits. Use this method to cleanse an exorcised home or to chase away a mild haunt._

_Draw a ward (see chapter on Minor Household Charms) on parchment and nail it above entrances. The ward serves as a barrier and will keep out those wishing to intrude. Highly powerful spirits can break these, so use multiple wards as a failsafe._

_Line salt at entrances to the home or the general perimeter. Salt burns spirits and repels them from entering. A full circle creates a formidable barrier._

_(For more hostile spirits, see the chapter on Exorcism.)_  
  
_Note: spirits can start off very docile and friendly, but those with a definite personality are capable of becoming something dangerous. Emotions are dangerous to the dead. Their logic becomes twisted over time, they latch on to strong anger or possessiveness, and the emotional contamination clouds judgment._  
  
_If a spirit becomes attached to a living person, take caution. Anti-possession charms or symbols must be worn on the body at all times. At the first sign of obsessive behavior, begin warding them further away._  
  
_(See next chapter: “Obsession and Caution: Creatures who are a Danger to Others”)_

 

* * *

  
  
Being dead felt a lot like being trapped underwater.    
  
Marco had gone swimming before, as a child. When summer came, it was normal for his mother to let him take his siblings out, only telling them to be back before dinner with a smile and a shake of the head at the eagerness they presented. They would waste their summer dunking each other under and testing to see how long they could hold their breathes. Once under, sound would always stop. The only thing he could definitely make out was the rushing sound of blood in his own head. Everything was fuzzy. Being under water was a lot like an entirely new world, one where a person only had their thoughts and the white noise of the rushing current of the river.  

Being dead was like that, but not exactly.    
  
The sounds of the living blended together into buzz that deafened the senses. Voices were everywhere and nowhere. Everything moved and shifted and changed direction. The worst part was how much Marco actually   craved   to join in. No one looked at him. No one acknowledged him. Their endless chatter and their constant change were smothering him far worse than anything else could. A desperate   look at me   stayed on the tip of his tongue only to be pushed back time and time again.    
  
Around Jean, it was harder to notice. Jean knew he was there, that he   existed   — he made sure to give Marco walking space and glance at him to affirm he was still there. He made comments under his breath just for Marco to hear. He shared glances that held meaning. Marco could honestly forget just how invisible he was when Jean was around.    
  
It took less than a day after leaving to realize just how much he needed that to feel comfortable.    
  
In Trost, in those first three days when he hadn't   known   he was dead, he had thought it was only worry. He had wandered seeking survivors, he had crawled through the streets through smoke and ash in a desperate attempt to find out what had happened and the fact no one   looked   at him was only one small piece of the terror building inside his chest. No one spared a glance at the soldier crying for help. Calling out and having Jean meet his eyes was the most relieving thing in the world then.    
  
Even if it meant finding out he had died the meaningless death he had dreaded.    
  
He had gone for hours without Jean before. He did it every night. He would wander the base, look at things, and listen to the late night chatter of guards or veterans doing paperwork. He would stop and watch stray animals wander around, wondering if they really could see him when they cocked their head at every little noise. Sometimes he struck up conversations with the dead who called the base home. The little interactions those nights kept him calm and at ease. Without it, it was startling to realize just how much little acknowledgements meant.    
  
The idea of going back to a place where he had them was what spurred him to work fast.    
  
He had covered a good part of town in little time. Mina and the woman, Miss Dion, were nowhere to be seen. But after the twelve hour mark, a knot formed in his throat. He felt anxious. His hands twitched. His eyes moved faster. He was so impatient with everything, so strung out—sorting through crowds felt rage-inducing when no one was who he was looking for. Every time he saw a blonde with a ponytail, he felt the urge to yank it and scream over how much trouble he was putting himself through just to  _find_ them, only to become even angrier when the person wasn't the _right_ person after all.    
  
Three days had passed and his patience was wearing thinner and thinner. He  _needed_ to find them.    
  
He  _needed_  to find out what happened to Mina.    
  
He  _needed_  to find out what her warning meant.  

He  _needed_ … Well, he needed this to  _settle_  so Jean wouldn't look so sick when he talked about it. Marco didn't know what had happened five years ago, but the uncomfortable way Jean shifted when it came up was enough to tell him it wasn't good. And seeing Jean troubled that way bothered Marco more than it should.    
  
If he ever did find them, he was tempted to find a way to hit them for causing so much trouble. Damn that woman. Damn Mina. Damn them both and their shady business.    
  
He was so tempted he actually didn't question  _why_  the idea of avenging Jean's nerves made him feel so good. That was a thought for another time. A time when he wasn't in the middle of a crowded market with no Mina in sight, and when he wasn't getting increasingly frustrated at a girl who kept blocking his line of vision.    
  
“Are you looking for someone?”    
  
Marco frowned. The girl still wasn't moving and he wanted to get a good glance at the shop she was blocking.    
  
“Excuse me? Are you lost?”    
  
He could always go   through   her, but he really hated the feeling. It was cold. And disorienting. And it reminded him he didn't exactly have a body. Plus, he was sure it was some kind of rude to just go through a person. That probably violated some unspoken personal space rule—    
  
“Mister Soldier?”    
  
Marco stiffened. If he could breathe, he would have gasped. Slowly he turned, eyes becoming hopeful. Behind him was a blonde in a baby blue and white dress, holding a basket with a concerned look as she reached toward him.    
  
Toward  _him_.  

__She was making eye contact__ _._    
  
“U-um, yes?” Marco fully turned. The blonde had big blue-gray eyes, and they stayed focused on his as her hand lowered. “Can you—?”    
  
“See you? Yes.” The blonde nodded. “Are you looking for someone? I would be glad to help.” To her left, a redhead with a medical patch over one eye came out of the crowd and narrowed his visible eye, absentmindedly chewing what looked like bread. He gave Marco a onceover and stepped closer to the blonde. “Is the person family? A loved one?”    
  
“I—”

“Charle, it could be hostile,” the redhead mumbled. The blonde, Charle, rolled her eyes and lightly smacked his arm. “What?”

" _You sound like Miss Dion._ He's a soldier. He deserves closure for his sacrifice.” Marco's eyes widened. He straightened his stance and put on a kind smile when Charle focused on him again. These two could be exactly what he was looking for. “Would you like some help?”

“No, ma'am. I'm fine.” Marco shook his head. He tried to look as calm as possible, even though every inch of him wanted to punch the air and sing for finally finding a lead. “Thank you, though.” Charle seemed uneasy but accepting, nodding as her redhead companion tugged her back into the crowd without glancing back at the soldier. Marco's smile faded when they were out of sight and he began to move quickly.  

The redhead was the taller of the two. That alone was enough to keep Marco's eyes trained. Charle's mouth continued to move and occasionally the redhead said something back, the both of them easing through the rush of people without a care. Marco kept a steady pace behind them, keeping a distance far enough to duck down should either of them turn around.    
  
Charle occasionally stopped to purchase something for her basket, the redhead standing close and scanning the crowds. Marco inched closer and attempted to remain on the same side as the medical patch. The redhead didn't seem to notice and the two would continue on towards the housing district.    
  
In the end, Marco had to hide behind a cart when they stopped in front of an aging building.    
  
Peering out, he watched the two of them give observing glances behind their backs before sliding through the door. He waited, counting to himself for a minute or two, before slowly making his way forward. He paused once more at the door to listen for noise on the other side. There didn't seem to be any signs of the two coming back out.    
  
When he attempted to phase his body through, he felt a sick _jolt_  in his limbs and backed away as if the door burned. There was some kind of _odor_ —   he couldn't take in the air to truly tell but there was a presence that he faintly recognized as herbs and smoke. It was pungent, suffocating as it made his form tingle.    
  
The old instinct to cough reared its head, but fizzled with the realization he no longer had lungs.  

Marco wrinkled his nose. So the door was out. He needed to find another way in. The building was crammed between other housing developments, brick meeting more brick with no gap big enough to house a door. Marco raised his head and furrowed his face in thought.    
  
There was a cracked window just a little ways off to the left.    
  
Marco stuck his hand through the small space and wiggled his fingers to test the air. Whatever it was keeping him away from the door hadn't spread to this window yet. Tensing, he forced his form through the thin glass and kept the miserable shudder at the feeling of passing through contained.    
  
He _hated_ it, though. He _hated it so much_. It just felt so  wrong—    
  
Marco shook his head. Now was not the time. He had a job to do. The room he had phased into was plain. No furniture. No signs of being lived in. There was dust everywhere. Above his head, he heard thumps and murmurs. His fists clenched as he steeled his resolve. He strained to remember the feeling of floating, separating his feet from the ground, the weightless sensation when he dropped from floor to floor back in the base—    
  
He almost yelped when he felt his head go through the ceiling, but held it in and silently pulled the rest of himself up. This room looked used. The door was mercifully closed, leaving Marco alone to stand and observe to his heart’s content. The bed covers were ruffled, the floor looked swept and clean. There was a bag of girl clothes open, spilling its contents onto the floorboards, a wrinkled blouse sporting a stain shaped suspiciously like a footprint.    
  
With a grimace, he recognized the clothes as Mina's.    
  
The noises he heard below became louder, shuffling and footsteps mingling together as voices drifted through the walls. Marco inched closer to the wall and pressed his ear to the bottom of the door.    
  
“— ouch any of the food in my kitchen and I swear to god I'll cut your  _other_ eye out, Kuklo.”    
  
“It isn't your kitchen!”      
  
“I don't care! It's _my_ food!”        
  
It was Miss Dion and Eye Patch Boy. Marco shuffled to press harder, blessing the small crack under the door for existing since he couldn't open the door himself. From his position, he could only see feet moving, picking Mina in soft slippers somewhere off to the right as thick brown boots paced around the room.

The soft voice of Charle joined in and her comfortable buckled shoes stepped up to a ratty pair of work boots. “Can you not fight? At least wait until the meeting is over.”    
  
“By the time the meeting is over, he'll have eaten half my fucking cabinet. We all remember last time.” The thick brown boots apparently belonged to Miss Dion, as they stomped and made their way towards Eye Patch Boy.    
  
“I said I was sorry.” Eye Patch seemed pouty, shuffling his feet.    
  
“Sorry my ass! Normal people don't  _strip a pig in ten minutes_.” Mina's small feet cut between the two, pushing the older woman back. There was a deep breath, as if she was going to keep ranting, but suddenly all movement ceased with one hard knocking sound somewhere behind them all.  

Miss Dion's work boots suddenly snapped to attention in a form that painfully reminded him of training lineup. Marco was suddenly overcome with a sense of dread in his chest that chilled him more than he would’ve cared to admit.    
  
“Kuklo. Answer the door. Boss is here.”  

 

* * *

  
  
Mina hadn't seen Master since she contracted.    
  
Granted, looking back, she was amazed he gave her any time at all. Trost was a day of nonstop surprises and activity. Taking the time to pull a small girl from the stomach of a monster seemed like a trivial thing to do. More so to sit her down and tell her things she was sure would change the world if they became common knowledge.    
  
Seeing him again brought back the memory—sitting on the rooftops where her comrades had fallen, pointing down to Eren emerging from the body of a titan as he screamed his rage to the heavens, a pale hand reaching for hers and the kind words urging her to make her choice—and he gave her a soft smile when he entered the flat to spot her sitting on one of the spare chairs. Not a hair out of place with his dark coat buttoned in full, he looked exactly the same. To her it had felt like years. But it had only been days.    
  
Kuklo—she had only learned his name from Miss Dion yelling it when he attempted to enter the kitchen area—shut the door and made his way back to one of the available seats. Charle—lovely girl; she had introduced herself with a basket of gifts—stood and offered a small bow.    
  
Miss Dion was the first to speak. But not before she carefully made her way over and slapped him across the face. “What the   _fuck_ where you  _thinking_!? Calling a meeting out of nowhere in a base we _never_ use!?”    
  
Mina gasped. There was a moment of terror—what was Miss Dion _doing for God’s sake? This was their boss_ —   but Charle shook her head and placed a hand on Mina’s shoulder. Kuklo lied back on the recently dusted sofa and appeared unaffected. Mina's heartbeat stammered with the realization that this was supposed to be   normal .    
  
Master adjusted his glasses, knocked askew by the hit, and gently pushed Miss Dion away with his pointer finger. “Ow.”    
  
“Don't you 'ow' me, you son of a—” Miss Dion raised her fist, which was also gently pushed down. The two met eyes for a moment, hers narrowing before she sat down roughly next to the eye-patched redhead who was giving glances back to the kitchen. Charle shook her head once more before primly taking a seat. “All right. Fine. You can start.”    
  
“Thank you.” Master smiled, sarcasm lining his tone. “For your information, Fritz summoned me again. He wants more servants. I had to spin a lie just to get away before the idiot demanded something _else_  stupid and pointless.” He straightened himself, looking over all of them before easing back into that smooth-toned voice Mina clearly remembered from Trost. “First off, I would like to announce that Trost was a rousing success. The death rate was much lower than anticipated and we have successfully recruited a new member of Infiltration.” His head cocked towards Mina, who shrunk a bit under the attention. “She will be under Chrona's custody for her apprentice period.”    
  
“You sure that's a good idea?” Kuklo lifted his head to squint at Miss Dion, who elbowed him sharply.    
  
“Yes, Kuklo, I am sure,” Master answered tiredly. “Mina will flourish with the right kind of teacher, and seeing as how you and Charle are still young, I thought a more experienced veteran would do better.” He briefly paused and then added, “By the way, is your eye working?”  

Kuklo nodded, fingers rubbing at his patch. “Just fine, sir.”    
  
“No problems? Color blindness? Headaches?”    
  
“Only if I read tiny letters.” Master seemed pleased with that answer, humming in affirmation. Mina wondered why Kuklo wore the patch if he had a functioning eye, but chose not to ask.    
  
“Next order of business…” Master's hands clenched, expression becoming harder. “It appears that Ymir is alive and within the walls.”    
  
The air might as well have been sucked out of the room. Kuklo's eye widened, hand clenching the sofa cushion tight enough to turn his knuckles white. Charle gasped and lifted her hands to her mouth. Mina watched Miss Dion closely and saw her digging her nails into her arm, releasing a breath harshly but maintaining her position.    
  
“Um, Master?” Mina timidly called his attention, his expression softening considerably at her voice.    
  
“You don't have to call me that, you know.”    
  
Mina nodded. “Azrael.” The name sounded too unfamiliar on her tongue, too awkward and stilted, but he gave her his full attention and Mina had no intention of backing down. “Ymir was a member of my training camp. Why is it shocking that she's alive?”    
  
“We were under the impression she was long gone with no hope of recovery,” Miss Dion answered. Her voice was tight, fingers digging further into her sleeve. “The mole reported her as a member of the Scouting Legion. Said she didn't even seem intent on coming forward.”    
  
Kuklo frowned and became contemplative, tapping his knee. “Does this mean Valkyrie isn't rejoining the mission plan? For phase two?”    
  
“Yes,” Azrael answered softly. “Assume for now that Valkyrie will not be a player. Mercy and Helmsman will keep their positions following the fifty seventh expedition.” Kuklo was silent but accepting, diverting his gaze to the floor. “It seems Ymir has attached herself to Target 1.”    
  
There were three simultaneous groans of frustration. Miss Dion slapped her forehead and threw her other hand into the air. “Of course. Of  _course_. She always goes for the cute ones.”    
  
“As shocked as I should be, I'm really not,” Azrael sighed. He crossed his arms, drumming his fingers in an annoyed manner against his coat sleeve. “I told the mole to keep an eye on her. Which raises another issue.” He hesitated, halting his finger drumming. “Your captain will be remaining in the mole position for an uncertain amount of time now that the Jaeger brat has unlocked his power. As of now, Infiltration will be under new leadership.”    
  
Three and a half sets of eyes suddenly met each other suspiciously.  

Azrael's lips twisted into a sardonic grin, one slow clap sounding off before pointing his joined hands at Miss Dion. “Congratulations, Chrona. Try not to kill everyone in two weeks.”    
  
Miss Dion attempted to kick him in the shin. “Fuck you—”    
  
Azrael dodged and continued smiling in the most mocking way imaginable. “No thank you. I don't want to become a marriage ruining harpy.”    
  
_"One time.”_    
  
“For four months,” Azrael muttered. Miss Dion flipped her hand in an obscene gesture that went ignored. “As captain, this means you also have a say on the Jaeger issue.”    
  
“ What  _is_   the plan for him?” Kuklo interjected. “Are we really going to let a seer walk around with the titan power?” Charle made a noise of agreement, Miss Dion joining in. Mina's interest peaked and she leaned forward, nervously gripping her seat.    
  
Azrael frowned in displeasure. “For now, yes.”    
  
Miss Dion made a growling noise and turned up her lip in disgust. “I say we kill him and keep the body on ice.”

Mina released a harsh “Hey!” that went unnoticed, no one commenting as she sent a ruthless glare to her mentor.  

“You suggested that five years ago and I will tell you now what I told you then,” Azrael spat in annoyance. “ _No._ ”  

“But we only need the body!”    
  
“Body or not, we can't afford to kill him. The little abomination is the key to phase two and he's worthless dead in the long run.” Azrael waved her off, pointedly ignoring the hateful stare burning holes in his skull.    
  
Mina stood abruptly. A string snapped inside her, a sense of injustice boiling over. The memory of Eren smiling on the rooftops in Trost flashed behind her eyelids. She wasn't going to stand for this. “Eren isn't a threat, though! His goals are aligned with ours!”  

 

* * *

  
  
Marco wished he could write this all down. The conversation was going fast, too fast for him to remember it all. His concentration was breaking as more and more questions began to pile up.    
  
Ymir was involved? How did these people know her? Was Christa the target they mentioned? Why would Christa be a target? What was phase two?  _Why_  was Mina following these people at all?    
  
The deep voice spoke again—what had Mina said his name was? Azray? Aceray? Isral?—and Marco hated listening to it. As low as it was, it had the effect of bricks dropping at every word. He shivered, the phantom feeling of hair rising on his neck tingling strongly. “We know, Mina. But Jaeger is untrained and too emotional. Plus, seers in general don't have stable minds… We're lucky as it is that he didn't turn into a blatant sociopath.”    
  
“He's a good person. We should try to work _with_  him!” Mina pleaded.    
  
“We _can't_.”   There was an audible sigh before the voice became very soft. “For the same reason we couldn't prevent Trost. Or Maria. We have orders. Let the natural course run its way.”    
  
There was silence. From under the door, Marco could see Mina slowly sit back down. “…yes, sir.” Her tone was compliant, but frustrated. There was a tenseness lingering behind her words.    
  
There was a tightening in Marco's chest. Prevent Maria? Prevent  _Trost_ ? What _possible_ reason—? Marco clamped down on the boiling in his skull before he unleashed this sudden wave of anger on the people behind the door. He was going to tell Jean everything. And they were going to come back to find answers. For now he needed to focus, focus on the little flare of hope that Mina wasn't completely compliant in all of this.    
  
“As it stands, one of the moles in the MP reports that any day now, the little traitor will make her summons. The sooner I form a contract with her, the sooner we can activate phase two.”    
  
Eye Patch spoke up, sounding intrigued. “What about her accomplices?”    
  
“We're still pinning them down. For now, they remain under the same surveillance Ymir and Target 1 have.” There was a sound of vague displeasure from the small audience. “I know. It's terrible surveillance, but it's all we have. Our resources are thin as it is.”    
  
“What about Gabriel?” Charle's voice was soft and inquisitive, shifting with the sound of her dress ruffling as she crossed her legs. “He performed well during Maria. Maybe he should receive a promotion and join the operation.”    
  
“He is currently acting as one of the MP moles. I have him stationed close enough to deliver us direct behavior reports.” The heavy voice—Marco identified him as the one with the slick black shoes that looked entirely too expensive—paced and paused in front of the door. Marco didn't dare move. There was a moment of eerie silence, one where the fear of being caught crawled through his frame, before the voice spoke up again. “I can try and find a new mole, but as it is, we missed our chance. The cadets have been delivered. There isn't time to sneak one of ours in and claim they're from another training camp.”    
  
“So all we have is a former captain who can't do anything.” Miss Dion sounded agitated, bouncing one leg and making the floor faintly vibrate. “Well, that's fucking pleasant.”    
  
“We've overcome worse,” the heavy voice replied. “And that is why I called Kuklo and Charle down from the mountains. You two are officially out of small village duty.” There was a male groan and a small female cheer. “Charle, I need you to dust off your acting skills. I need a niece ready to interrogate during fundraising galas. Can you pretend to be a mindless giggly teenager?”    
  
“Anything for you, sir.”    
  
“Good. Try to worm information out of Smith.” The Commander? Marco remembered the man being stern and intimidating. How was a little thing like Charle going to get information from him? “I don't expect much. Just find out what topics he tries his hardest to divert you from in a conversation. Between the two of us, the next tedious party before the expedition could be a goldmine.”    
  
“What about if Commander Smith catches on?” Mina sounded so timid, so unsure. “You told me he was smart. Smart enough to unravel things. He might notice what you're doing.”    
  
“If Smith does catch on, then that is why we have the mole.” The heavy voice sounded too amused. It sounded like he had been asked what color the sky was, or some other trivially easy question. “It wouldn't be the first time we had to kill a military leader.”    
  
Mina's reply was anything but amused. “I'd rather not kill anyone, sir.”    
  
“It is reserved as a last resort tactic. Given that this is the last clear shot we have before complete and utter anarchy takes over, we can't afford to eliminate figures unless we truly need to.” There was a noise, something sounding like ruffling paper. “Ah, and, Kuklo?”    
  
“Huh?” was Eye Patch's response.    
  
“You have a mission as well. Nick isn't going to say anything. We have him silenced, so it shouldn't be an issue to send you into the wall cult. I need you to convince members of the church that Jaeger is a gift from Heaven.”    
  
Eye Patch made a noise of downright offense and disgust, his heels digging into the floor. “The  _wall cult_? Boss—”    
  
“Relax. The new titan cult won't worship  _you_. This is the failsafe to keep the little twit of a psychic alive. Spread the idea through the people, put up posters, or paint his name on buildings. I don't care how it gets done.” Eye Patch let out another groan, but didn't protest.    
  
Marco jolted. The voices continued on the other side, but that sickening feeling was coming back.    
  
The air suddenly felt like herbs and smoke again.    
  
Marco cursed silently. Whatever it was downstairs had finally come into the room. The urge to flee was growing stronger, so much stronger, but he needed to _stay_. They were still talking—    
  
“— mir and Target 1 a priority, Mina, you can keep a tail on them during the expedition—”    
  
There was still so much more to learn—    
  
“— ying lessons? Chrona, teach the girl how to use them!”    
  
“ I still have a while. Don't worry about it! I can't exactly take her out in the daylight—”    
  
He needed to know what they were doing—    
  
“—Ackerman is guarding the twit, so getting to him will be difficult—”    
  
He needed to do it for Jean. Jean was relying on him—    
  
“— hardt won't trust us, but I'm sure I can get what we need from her—”    
  
Too much. It was too much. He needed to scream. He needed out, he needed out, he needed  _ _out_ _   _—_    
  
Marco never got to hear what they said next. Instead, he scrambled through the window, phasing with that sickening lurch deep inside, and struggled to keep it together in the clean air of the street. People walked past with no notice of the dead boy trying to gasp in the road.    
  
No one could see how he gave one lingering look to the building behind him then began running.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The anxiety included with introducing an OC villain is draining. 
> 
> But on my [WRITING BLOG](http://shingekicornwrites.tumblr.com) Azrael's reception has been very warm and it motivates me a lot to hear from readers. So be sure to drop by where I answer questions, post art and extra material, and give insight to the themes and othersuch presented in the fic. 
> 
> I also track the tag 'fic: Eyes of Gold' on tumblr!
> 
> As always comments and kudos are GREATLY appreciated


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